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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. | 

Chap. MA^X%- 
Shelf _____S__k:*>_j^2> 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



I 



" THE LAST WRITING • 



OF 



MA 





(From an Ambrotype, taken by L. V. Griffin, the morning before attempt to commit suicide.) 
CONTAINING HIS 

CONFESSION, 

REVELATIONS, 

AND ALSO HIS "SO CALLED" PRINCIPLES OF PHILOSOPHY AND 

RELIGION. . 



He was Executed at Rochester, W. Y., Oct. 22, 1858, for the 
Murder of his Brother-in-law, Charles W. Littles, 
on the 19th Dec, 1857. 



ROCHESTER, K Y. 
PRINTED FOR THE PUBLISHERS. 

1858. 



Single Copie§> 25 Cent§. 

Orders addressed to H. Sellick Merrill, Rochester, N. Y., will meet with prompt 

attention. A liberal discount made to the Trade. 



It 












**&* 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Clerk's Office of the 
Northern District of New York, 

By H. Sillick Merrill, 

In the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight. 



PREFACE 



■'♦»»• 



Kind reader, we modestly pick up our pen and address ourselves to the business 
of an introduction of "one of Nature's own," and one "not unknown to fame," to 
jour notice ; and whether for pleasure, wonder or disgust, each one's own heart is 
to decide for itself. All things propitious then, we say that in these pages will be 
found wrapped up — as swathings do the mummies of Old Egypt — whatever of Ira 
Stout is left to grace or curse the earth. The reader shall have not only the words 
which his lips have uttered, and his pen traced, but in addition, the view of his 
character, which one perfectly disinterested and withal thoroughly acquainted by 
close observation, has been able to obtain. Reader, prepare yourself then for such 
alternations of emotion as seldom are awakened by pages so few and so hastily 
written. It is no pleasing task to set before the world such a picture, when it is 
remembered that there are left behind, friends and relations, whose harrowed feel- 
ings will be more embittered by these revelations of villainous deed and capacity. 
But while we feel for them, it is but due to the world that they should know the 
whole. It is said the memory of the dead should be sacred, their frailties overlooked, 
their bad deeds forgotten. But when a man becomes criminal to such a degree 
we hold that the public have a right to know even the worst. And, moreover, when 
public men die, are not their characters the legacy they leave the people, where 
they reaped their glory ? 

Now, then, we tell you plainly, that in this pamphlet not a word is minced, how- 
ever blasphemous; not a sentiment, however infidel. It was written in the chilling 
atmosphere that ever surrounds grim death. It was written after the fixed purpose 
of suicide was formed. And I will venture to say that no one walks the earth so 
void of everything that is pure, and so powerful in everything that is diabolical. It 
aids one always, in the comprehension of any species of literature, to know the 
"stand point" from which it was written; so be prepared to begin the "Last Writing'' 
of Marion Ira Stout, prepossessed with this, that noihing is too hard to believe. 
And just here let me remark that many imperfections exist in this paper which Ira 
could have corrected and erased, had time permitted. And the reader must bear 
in mind the circumstances under which the labor of composing it was carried on. 
A more elaborate document was in course of completion at the time when the grant 



IV 

of a new trial was refused. Ira was again sentenced to be hung, and his hope of 
escaping the extreme penalty of the law daily grew less ; at this time, foreseeing 
that the few weeks al]owed before his execution would be insufficient for finishing 
M;he longer article already on the way, he at once set about the work of condensing 
it. And the labor was carried on amid the daily interruption of visitors, and under 
considerable physical debility. The article was duly completed some five hours 
before the attempted act of suicide. 

That such a piece of composition should have been written under the eye of our 
vigilant officials may seem a source of wonderment to some. Why say you — and 
here let me anticipate a little — "they would not wink at his intentions to commit 
suicide." No. Nor did he conceal his papers, but in plain sight before the eye of 
visitors and officials, wrapped in the concealment of phonography, were all his 
thoughts of wrongs and misdeeds, his confessions and his strange beliefs. 

Marion Ira Stout was born in Willkesbarre Pa., Sep. 18th, 1835. When Ira was 
two years old, his parents moved to the State of New York, and settled in the pic- 
turesque village of Ithaca, at the head of Cayuga lake. He was brought up in a 
state of unrestrained independence. His mother's mild and affectionate influence 
failed to control her reckless, self-willed son. With all his irregularities, he attenled 
school with tolerable steadiness, and read, and studied at times, with excessive ap- 
plication. His favorite branch of reading was metaphysics, — Hume, Locke, Read, 
and various others, whose philosophy he had examined and compared with much 
comprehension, at the age of thirteen years. His education was academic, compris- 
ing an extensive acquaintance with mathematics and other branches, as well as 
English literature, and some knowledge of Latin and French. 

At the age of eleven, he began todevelope that dangerous adroitness of the pen, 
which we think has contributed more to his downfall and ruin than any other in- 
fluence ; his father being an expert forger, and connected with gangs of counter- 
feiters in Canada, Ohio, and the central part of New York, Ira lived in cl^se associa- 
tion and under the jurisdiction of his father and others, who at times forced him to 
perpetrate elaborate pieces of forgery, and other criminal negotiations. He was 
trained under influences grossly immoral and corrupting ; his tuition in every spe- 
cies of the black arts and scientific rascality was complete, and his excessive mental 
activity and energy made him an apt and rapid scholar. A short part of his life 
was passed in Canada under the instruction of several friends of his father's, under 
the best engravers and forgers in that region, and where Ira's acquaintance with the 
manufacturing of bad money — filling up bank bills and other operations, was per- 
fected. Under these combined influences the worst part of his character was devel- 
oped. And while the intellectual was rendered more acute, penetrating and confi- 
dent, the moral perception was blunted, chilled and corrupted. He travelled to 
different places under the direction of letters furnished by his father, visited those 
who were intimately connected with the Northern gangs, receiving and conveying 
information of any new counterfeit issues, and countersigning the forged bills for 
different persons. When Ira was sixteen^ years old his father removed to Owego, 
thirty miles distant from Ithaca. His father was still engaged in an extensive coun- 
terfeiting business, and finally, to satisfy the private vengeance of one of his associ- 
ates by the name of Bascomb, he formed a plan of burning and plundering a store in 
Pennsylvania; from sheer compulsion Ira was forced to join this expedition. It 
was perpetrated, detected, and the parties arrested. Ira's father and others, to 



MB 



prevent being taken back to' Pennsylvania, plead guilty to the charge of forgery, 
and were sentenced to Auburn prison for various terms — Ira's father for ten years. 
The talents of Ira made a very favorable impression on the Hon. Judge Avery, anM 
numerous others, and his release was effected by the assistance of a few eminent men. 
It was presumed his exemption from the destructive influence of his father, and the 
encouragement of some of the best men in Tioga County, would render his future 
career useful and honorable. While he was progressing, in a very happy and suc- 
cessful style, and attaining a good position among men, his hopes and ambition 
were suddenly blighted by means of a requisition sworn out by some person who 
preferred the charge of burglary against him in Pennsylvania. This, we believe, 
was great injustice to Ira, from the fact that these men had sacredly promised to allow 
him a fair opportunity for redeeming his character; and he should have been unmo- 
lested as long as he was conducting himself with the utmost propriety. He was 
taken to Pennsylvania, kept in jail nine months, tried, convicted and sent to prison 
four years and six months, and remained in prison every hour of the time. Dur- 
ing all the time of his stay in prison, he was [ kept in uninterrupted solitude. 
Though the intellectual may have increased its power, it became too theoretic, 
transcendental and extravagant for practical use. His conceptions of what a man 
should be, were, no doubt, high, and his genius might have reduced them to prac- 
tice. However, we can form but little conception of what he would' have made 
had he lived in that upright course of conduct which he nobly began previous to 
his removal to the Pennsylvania prison. He was discharged from the prison after 
his term had expired, and returned forthwith to Rochester, where his mother, 
sisters and brothers resided. His conduct in Rochester, up to the fatal tragedy is 
tolerably well known. According to the President of the Commercial College, it 
was correct, judicious and honorable. His days were spent in the mercantile in- 
stitution, his nights in the study of commercial law. mathematics and literary 
works. 

Thus, then we come to the consideration of the character which such precedents 
had aided in forming. It is altogether probable that in the lonely cell were im- 
bibed those errors which crop out so largely in his exposition herein contained. 

Let us for a short time look at the formative power which this solitary confine- 
ment exerted on his character. 

None were near to converse with him, and a natural love of literature led him 
to the study and perusal of all kinds of composition. With a proclivity for every- 
thing which had independence or oddity enough to be out of the usual order, he 
allowed his mind to be led away into the labyrinths which sophistry in every 
age has trodden; and with a mind, though strong and active, still inexperienced, 
he gradually succumbed to their influence and followed, comet-like, the most erratic 
track. Reason, he enthroned as his God; and the Will, was its Prime Minister. 

Whatever Reason could not fathom, must be rejected; and the conclusions which 
it attained must be held true, whatever " above" or " below," might oppose. Who 
will not sigh when he reads this article and perceives the fine taste which some of 
his quotations exhibit, to think that these finer feelings should have been so shorn 
of their glory, by the eclipse which his own vile actions caused ! 

Doubtless had Ira Stout, under the influence which contact of mind with mind 
possesses, perused these same works, the point attained would have been far 
different. To Reason, everything must bend. The finer feelings, the instincts 



VI 

which God has given unto us all, the conscience — all must bow before the magic 
mace of Reason. 

And " What," say you, " did Ira Stout believe ?" 

I will tell you. His views were vague and vacillating. And, as he himself 
affirms, were unsatisfactory. u He was in philosophy an Hegelian, and in religion a 
follower of Shelley." But we would not do Stout justice, if we did not mention in 
warm terms his exhibitions of taste, both in expressing his own thought, and in the 
broad, general knowledge of literature, which the quota! ions in this piece of writing 
evince. In spite of all his villainy, one could not help admiring him. And thus 
from the first, has he maintained a considerable influence over all who have been 
near him. Witness how apt are some of these extracts to express just the senti- 
ments which his heart longs to tell. True, you may say, when you have perused 
these pages, they are full of hyperbole and bombast. Well, grant all that, and 
even then we think that there are sufficient good points to redeem his character. 
What vigor some of his words put on ! What keenness of satire, is frequently 
exhibited ! 

And, kind reader, let me warn you, that unless your heart is more than " steel," 
"it will relent,'' as here and there some word escapes to let you know he was not 
all hard -heartedness; that there were yet smouldering under the ruins some rem- 
nants of a " better nature.'' And, you say, is there not some circumstance to give 
this picture a relief? After duly weighing every fact in the case, we say, with an 
emphasis, No! Well, you ask, again, is he not insane ? No man ever had so com- 
plete control over himself as Ira Stout. There is not an appetite or passion that has 
conquered him, for he was given to no excess in drinking, gambling, or licentious- 
ness. From its throne, Reason reigned supreme. And all his faculties, when he 
said u go,'' obeyed. 

So there is no resort but to believe in his wilful departure from rectitude and 
virtue. But let us not altogether condemn him, for, was he not in a measure the 
victim of circumstances ? ' Born into a family, where, to say the least, there was 
not one pious deed or word. Educated under the surveillance of a father whose 
only renown was as a criminal. Introduced, at the early age of fourteen years, 
into the very hot-bed of villainy. And, when we view the additional fact, that he 
must have inherited a proclivity towards crime as the only "birth-right" which 
his father gave, — surely, under such circumstances, the veil of chanty should be 
drawn, aud each one, with a grateful heart, should thank kind Providence that 
he is not weighed in an equal " balance, and found wanting." 

Rochester, N. Y., October 22, 1853. 



LETTER FROM M. I. STOUT TO H. S. MERRILL. 

[The following letter was found in the Btand drawer in Ira's room on the morning after his attempt 
at suicide — October 13th. It was written probably the last thing before the lancet was applied.. This 
also was in phonography, with the request that it should he published. Ira, as his " Last Writing" 
alleges, had been beset for a " confession and autobiography," by several; but not "liking that style," 
he chose to write the accompanying pages. He committed them to the "tender mercies" of one of 
his keepers, whose daily visitations had given nim a more thorough acquaintance with his character, 
and put him in a better position than any one else for publishing them.] 

Blue Eagle Institution, 

Saturday Night, October 9, 1858. 

Mr Friend Sillick, 

" Thus perisheth all my greatness !" I appoint you, Si Hick, my 
supreme executor ; with a firm reliance on your forcible promise and powers 
of execution. 

Translate this long paper verbatim, and let no advice, opposition, or abuse 
prevent you from the entire fulfilment of your promise to publish it just as 
it is written. I rely on you for justice to the dead as well as the living. 
Take things gloriously cool ; do not flinch a hair's breadth from any thing 
that walks the earth, whether it be in the shape of a spirit of health or a 
" goblin damned." 

I will not presume to give any analysis of this long article ; but it is all 
intended to be written in that high spirit of rigid justice, independence and 
self-reliance, which I conceive should be inherent in all men. I have arranged 
my own premises, made my own deductions, and issued my own reviews 
and commentaries. I have not damned myself very strongly or savagely, 
because the public fortunately saved me the trouble. God Almighty 
created only one Marion Ira Stout. Christ knows he ought to think twice 
before he creates another. You who visited me forty times daily are per- 
fectly aware of the sickening and deadly hesitancy in which it was written, 
as well as the continued headache, interruption, and confusion to which I 
was subjected. I will not hamper you by any rules or regulations in the 
publication, because it is believed your own judgment, energy, penetration, 
and independence will be sufficient for these things. 

Now, Sillick, having arranged a quiet and delightful plan "to break the 
golden bowl," I hereby put it in execution with ineffable spirit and sang- 
froid. There has been a very foolish, feverish, malignant anxiety to rush 
me from the world ; and, as I am tinged with an omnipresent spirit of 
accommodation, I will just give up the ghost to the argument on my own 
hook, merely to please ten sensible persons and a thousand pimps, fools, 
bigots, and cowards. I am told by those who pretend a stupendous acquaint- 
ance with these things, " that the public are particularly set against me." 

They can remain " set" and be d d. They have forced me to die by 

their rigid abuse, persecution, injustice, illegality ; but they can never sub- 
due me by such disgusting power, or make me sink or tremble, " and when 
all things are d d, Sillick, one feels at ease." Had they shown me jus- 
tice and humanity, things might have been deferred ; but I do not want 
their mercy : let me have justice first. " I can manage my enemies, but God 
save me from my friends." Of course, I take a violent exception to the 
suspension system of death, and will establish a modus operandi less airy 
and ethereal. It is all over now ; the law has been trampled in the dust ; 
humanity violated ; and another dark d d murder riveted in letters of 



8 

blood on the name of Rochester. Perhaps, Sillick, you may issue a lumin« 
ous objection to my style of death, but you know this is simply a matter of 
taste, in which we may modestly differ. Although one may discuss with 
heroic coolness and philosophy on death and dying, yet when one quietly 
picks up his pen, with the view of " settling up" with the world, and sending 
in his resignation to Time, it requires an inborn power which can only be 
understood by passing through the operation. If you do not think so, 
make the experiment ; but of course you decline, with unmentionable deli- 
cacy. So would I, if it were not so irresistible and well understood. 

It would give me infinite pleasure to write farewell notes to many of my 
glorious friends ; but, as I graduate with sanguinary and even sublime 
abruptness, my neglect is pardonable. God bless and keep them all, as well 
as all my wives, who have been so fickle and volatile, that only thirteen 
remain. * So I have indeed passed away, Sillick ; yet, I believe, as you 
slowly heave through the labyrinths of the Blue Eagle, you will imagine you 
see me sitting in my old arm-chair, poring over the classic magnificence of 
Byron, or driving the pen in passionless beauty. By the way, I have 
quoted considerable poetry in my last article, simply, because I please to 
quote it. I remember, with the highest pleasure, our conversations on music, 
poetry and philosophy, in which we generally agreed ; besides some other 
things in which you know we sometimes differed. 

But you are, I am pleased to say, a man of taste and judgment. *Your 
midnight watchi'ngs over me, when laid out, with the hopeful prospect to 
die, were all right ; and convinced me there is some virtue in whiskey, when 
properly applied. And you, Sillick, from your intimate relations with me, 
and your keen observation of men and things, are perfectly aware that my 
cool and original style of action, which is terrible to" the public as such, is 
simply natural, inherent, and constitutional ; but the public have a particu- 
lar liking to call it pride, defiance, effrontery, or just what they please. And 
now that I am gone to the devil, Sillick, perhaps you may have occasion to 
talk more on this point ; which, of course, I shall yet defend in a just, 
forcible, and independent style ; and yet in accordance with truth, justice, 
and liberality. , 

I wish you an infinity of success in your progress through the world, 
which, of course, you will combat in a rapid and effective style, which is the 
grand prelude to success. Well, good-bye, Sillick ; I am wrapt in a man«- 
tle of red, and so soon to be a royal feast, to Pluto. You will find me in 
the library of his satanic majesty, pouring over the metaphysics and theology 
of the lower regions. I wonder if the devil understands Latin ! I will 
just go down and see. Of course, I will make honorable mention of you. 
"Lay on, Macduff." 

** Farewell ! a word that raay be, and has been ; 
A sound that makes ns linger, yet farewell !" 

Very sincrely yours, 

MARION IRA STOUT. 
To H. Sillick Merrill. 

* This has reference to the time when he was first brought to the Jail, with his arm broken, 
which bad to be bathed in whiskey. 



HE LAST WRITING 



OF 





" The wind bloweth -where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell 
whence it comcth or -whither it gceth." "And now shall I sleep in the dust: and thou shali 
seek me in the morning, but I will not be."-^BiBLB, 



/ 

" And I have lived and have not lived in vain, 
Tho' mind may lose it3 force, and blood its fire, 
And my frame perish even in conquering pain. 
But there is that -within me which shall tire 
Torture and time, and breathe "when I expire. 
Something unearthly, which they dream not of, 
Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre, 
Shall on their sufficient spirits sink, and move 
In hearts, all rocky now, the late remorse of lore." 

Byron. 

The angel of death is floating around me in sorrow and beauty ; the 
grave, dark and untimely, yawns at my feet. '• Souls know no conquerors." 
Death ! Death I cl— — * n you, I am your master. " Crown me with flowers/' 
3aid Mirabeau ; "Let me die to the sound of delicious music." That regal 
controller, the high and almighty will, can hold all external things in the 
dust, and make even death cower at your feet, I die royally wreathed with 
blood. In a few rapid hours I shall b9 a deep red star in the dome of God, 
and one of the dark deities of earth. 

" My days are numbered and my debt3 recorded ; 
I have borne in life what others could not brook to dream. 
Away ! I will die as I have lived ! alone." 

Earth, how grand and glorious ! yet, " is thy bosom rent before its 
gems are found ;" it is only in the scathing storm of sorrow and adversity 
the mind evolves its inherent strength and beauty. There is a nameless 
influence floating around the deathless spirit, when it feels itself swiftly and 
surely approaching the confines of earth, though wrapt in the unfading splen- 
dor of an eternal soul. Yet, what do I know ? What am I ? Who am 
I ? and, where am. I .1 Whence my origin ? and whither my destiny? In 



10 

the language of Shelley, and the echo of Hume, " When death removes our 
clay coverings, these mysteries will be solved." Perhaps before mortal eye 
shall glauce over this paper, the hand that writes will be cold in death, and 
the spirit which dictates will have passed " to that bourne whence no tra- 
veller ever returns." I die in the plenitude of my youth — victimized, sa- 
crificed, murdered. I have lived only for others ; I have hope, pity and 
tears for them ; but none for myself, I am only one among many, and 
perhaps, "Sparta hath many a noble son." I hope my death may be a 
benefit to the community ; but I fear a fatal mistake is committed. 

" And if my voice break forth, tis not that now 
1 shrink from what is suffered ; then let him speak 
"Who hath beheld decline upon my brow, 
Or seen my mind's convulsions leave it weak. 
But in this page a record will I seek, 
ISTot in the air shall these my words disperse, 
Though I be ashes, a fair air shall reek 
The deep prophetic fullness of my verse, 
And pilH on human heads the mountain of my curse. 
That curse shall be my forgiveness. Have I not, 
" Hear me, my mother earth ; behold it, Heaven ; 
Have I not had to wrestle with my lot ? 
Have I not suffered things to be forgiven? 
Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, 
Hopes sapped, name blighted, life's life-light withered, 
And only not to desperation drive'n, . 
Because not altogether of such clay 
As rots around the souls of those whom I survey?" 

Having lived and struggled like a man, I will not now disgrace myself 
by any imbecile conduct, or mock repentance. " Life is a tragedy," says 
Junius, in which "the hero must preserve his character to the last; and hav- 
ing lived without virtue, (not literally true in my case,) die without repent- 
ance." My attachments to earth are far from being powerful ; had I lived, 
it would have been well; I die; it is just as well; I only object .to being a 
sacrifice to the caprice of a few unhappy wretches. There is a deep tinge of 
bitterness when 1 think of the tears that will be shed over me ; but I can 
only wisper words of hope, encouragement, and remembrance. My life is 
demanded unjustly ; it is gone. When the inhuman triumphs and unfortunate 
excitements and personalities have died away, let the interested reader 
cooly, fairly, and candidly ask himself, was it right and just that I 
should be sacrificed? What has been gained by my death? What 
good has been accomplished for the community of Rochester? Has 
it not been corrupting and injurious? The law is vindicated, and humanity 
outraged. There will be pain and depression in the hearts of many, 
when they contemplate my unjust death ; perhaps they may issue 
their fiat against its wrongness and inexpediency, as a matter of policy; 
and its sickening horribleness, as a matter of justice and humanity. I know 
very well how these remarks will be received, but I shall write in the poor 
spirit of independence, just what I please, and what I conceive to be just 
and proper. I perfectly understand the selfish, feverish anxiety of a few 
seeming cowards to rush me from the world. In a most unfeeling manner 
they have pursued mo to the grave, and have shown their craven spirits by 
clamoring, like hungry wolves, for my blood. " What are Stout's politics?" 



11 

said B . He is a black Republican — U D n him, he is dangerous ; let 

him die !" They have won. Let them riot over my corpse, and rejoice in 
their shame and inhumanity ; perhaps they may, even yet, attempt to pur- 
suade the public that my death was just and essential, and the community 
may now breathe with safety and freedom. Will such sophistry be believ- 
ed ? As a member of the human family, I hope not Did it ever occur to 
these gentlemen, that the Rochester community were tolerating and even re- 
specting and honoring men who are in every thing that makes men, as far 
below me as earth is below the sun ? For the expression of this sentiment, 
I expect to be overwhelmed with some of those bright and original charges 
of egotism and vanity. Nevertheless, the sentiment is true. While 
they are blowing off their evaporations of folly and absurdity, I have pass- 
ed life's -'fitful fever," and gone where praise and eulogy, abuse and irony, 
are alike unheard. I consider that the letter of the law has been carried 
out, but the spirit is violated. It is true I am despoiled, secundam lex', but 
there are in every human heart, ultimate truths or instinctive principles of 
justice, humanity, and expediency, upon which all laws are founded ; and 
law executed in opposition to these principles, is in opposition to the interests 
and welfare of the community. 

This view, I believe, will^find an echo in the hearts of many of my readers. 
This is the view I apply to my own case. Capital punishment, in a civilized 
community, is one of the last relics of heathenism in barbaric ages. It is a 
sheer absurdity for the sheriff and other officials to " shuffle off'' their damn- 
ing responsibility on this mock authority, called law. The Sheriff of Mon- 
roe County is a humane and liberal man, and perhaps regrets the unfortu- 
nate duty he is to perform — and no doubt will be abundantly grateful to me 
for saving him the trouble of hanging me. I have no more license to com- 
mit murder than he has, but I take a diabolical exception to his style, and 
shall graduate on "my own hook" — seeking tranquility in the silent power 
of arsenic, oxalic acid, or the knife, according to circumstances, and accord- 
ing to Hume and sundry German authors — not to mention numerous prece- 
dents. I think in my particular case the public excitement has been carried 
to an unwarrantable extent — the public mind warped into prejudice and 
deadly opposition by the false views, slander, and misrepresentations of indi- 
viduals and newspapers. The puerile feebleness of prejudiced souls, steeped 
in falsehood, selfishness, and avarice, was received by many as information 
as strong as proofs of holy writ. Some editors are perfectly aware how eas- 
ily they can impose upon simple, credulous, gullible persons, and were ready 
to issue the most revolting personalities, merely to give their paper an exten- 
sive sale. It is evident to any man that I was arraigned, judged, condemned, 
and executed, before the indictment was prepared. It is a general principle 
of humanity, that when men are involved in trials and difficulties, and have 
an easy and delightful prospect of going right straight to the devil, many 
persons show their spirit and magnanimity bv forcing them more rapidly 
down their unhappy and ruinous track. This is one of those low, misan- 
thropical faults of men, which ought to be d d wherever it is displayed. 

I believe I have been too much a victim to this feeling. In the face of 
every conceivable species of opposition, I was put through a certain number 
of legal forms, (a mere mockery of justice,) dashed with perfidy, chicanery, 
and circumvention, yet dignified by the title of a " fair, impartial trial." The 



12 

real fact is, I was convicted on prejudice, presumption, aud perjury. " Might 
sometimes makes right;" but this is a dictum of better philosophy, which 
can only be understood by experience. 

As a matter of plain duty and justice, I should acknowledge the hio-h leo-al 
services of my talented counsel, Mr. J. N. Pomeroy. He was appointed by 
the Court, and has shown a steady and active devotion to my cause — de- 
fending me legally with a versatility of talent, energy, and perseverance, hon- 
orable to himself and satisfactory to me. The case was exceedingly difficult, 
and prejudicially notorious; but he has labored coolly,- forcibly, and perseve- 
ringly; and had public opposition been less excessive and outrageous, perhaps 
the case might have had a less deplorable issue. His plea was manly and 
energetic ; his entire labors were conducted in the highest spirit of learning 
and liberality; and the finest feelings and sympathies of his nature were en- 
listed in the cause. His argument before the Supreme Court was profound, 
logical, and elaborate ; and this is the opinion of eminent men, who are cer- 
tainly capable of judging more legally and logically than myself.. 

Some of the best counsel in the State considered that he established his 
case, though the decision was adverse. I am pleased to acknowledge pub- 
licly, the efforts of my Counsel, though his talents and honorable character 
are too well known to acquire much additional fame and popularity by my 
notice. It is my last sincere regret, that I am unable to present him any 
adequate compensation, for the time, labor and money he has expended in 
my defence. My junior Counsel, Mr. G, S. Cutting, is a learned, generous, 
liberal hearted man, and aside from our legal relations, he is my personal 
friend ; he has performed his share in my case with much ability and perse- 
verance. He has done the best he could ; acted nobly. No man could do 
more. 

I was advised to plead my own case, and censured for not doing it; but I 
had conclusive reasons of my own for vetoing this proposal. My theory of 
the defence was objected to, though I still think a statement of the partic- 
ular transaction should have been given to the public or jury,* which would 
not only have staggered very badly all theories of premeditated murder, but 
would have given them warrantable premises for deducing manslaughter in 
the second or third degree. Bat it is too late now ; and speculation is useless. 
The charge of the Hon. Judge Welles, was fair, impartial and liberal. I 
have no doubt he is a high minded and benevolent man, and would have been 
better satisfied had he been allowed the legal privelege of sentencing me to 
prison instead of to death ; and I can only regret, that he was forced to perform 
the latter unhappy duty, He never sentenced a better man on the charge of 
murder, nor one less accountable for the crime. I remember, with much 
regard, Mr. J. C. Chumasero, for his eloquent and effective plea in behalf 
-of my sister. 

[Here the publisher is compelled to omit many personal allusions ; as it 
seems that all who cross Stout's path, must, however unjustly, receive his 
severest censure.] 

I am no advocate for mother's exclusion from the witness' stand, but I 
think when she was exceedingly anxious to have good counsel, it should 
have been allowed. Every word of her testimony shows how thoroughly 
she had been disciplined. Even the doubts that arose in her evidence 
w r ere invariably given in favor of the prosecution. It is a matter of some 



13 

wonder how any one could be frightened and terrified into a compliance so 
unqualified. I dare not trust myself to comment on these things as 
they should be — I can only say, they have been to me a source of the bitter- 
est anguish and vindictiveness. 

The decision of the Supreme Court and a subsequent failure of operations, 
was in chilling and desolating opposition to my own views, theories and 
arrangements; while my hopes for a new trial were not as unqualified as 
some others; yet I was morally certain the case would be transferred to the 
Court of Appeals. My first trial did not possess that breadth and compre- 
hensiveness which I conceived to be necessary ; and had another trial been 
ordered, I am tolerably sure the verdict would have been different. I had 
again prepared the first draft of a clear, direct and comprehensive Confession, 
as well as a review, commentary, and defense, equally elaborate and substan- 
tial. Had time been allowed me, these papers would have been issued, 
but the exceeding shortness of my present time, forces me unfortunately to 
fling down these papers; and with every influence that can depress and con- 
fuse the mind, I have proceeded thus far in my last writing. As. I sit here 
by this little stand, it is true I am writing with ineffable coolness and sang 
froid, but the numerous things I am forced to contemplate, require an effort 
and resolution which can scarcely be understood, except by passing through 
the operation. True, glory and imperfection, this last writing of Ira Stout, 
may contain. Let the reader look at death and myself standing side by 
side, and then criticise. I rest these things upon that "calm of true maj- 
esty in man — reason," and, I may add, will. Not that I fear death, be- 
cause I do not ; not that I fear anything-, because I will not — but if men 
think it is very easy and pleasant to perform the last writing they will have 
to do, I shall be happy to have them make the experiment. The vanity 
and self-conceit of many on this point is very foolish and disgusting. Were 
it not for the tremendous discipline I have received, perhaps I might waver, 
but my father taught me " eternal coolness;" "never to flinch or tremble;''' 
"be equal to every position ;" " bear things as long they can be borne, and 
then drive them to hell or crush them in the dust." 

Oli, Time ! 
Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine; 
And temple more divinely desolate. 
"Among the mightiest offerings, here are mine, 
Wrongs of years, tho' few yet full of fate; 
If thou hast ever seen me too elate, 
Hear me not — but if calmly I have borne, 
Good — and preserved my pride against the hate 
Which shall not quell me — Let me not have worn 
These irons, in my sou], in vain — Shall they not mourn." 

In regard to the terrible transaction in which I am involved, whatever is 
known, is known ; but the rest shall be buried with me in the eternal 
silence of the grave. The public have but very little acquaintance with 
the causes and circumstances which led to the dark and horrible event, 
and still less with the terrific denouement below Falls Field. It re- 
mains shrouded in mystery and blood ; and the only man who could 
evolve its hell and horror, will soon be mouldering in the dust. I would 
not unroll riggidly the facts and precedents of this tragedy, without being 
truthful and just. I cannot be truthful and just, without excessive bitterness 



14 

and severity. Each one can hold his darling dogma and pet theory, and 
bask in the common hallucination of self-sufficient ignorance. I have 
smiled at the numerous reports and theories of this affair, which have 
generally been the offspring of blindness and credulity, bigotry and preju- 
dice ; but very few of the real tacts have been explained-, and there is an 
absolute certainty in my mind, that now they never will be comprehensibly 
exposed. Some few, at least, have been noble, generous and charitable, in 
their views of this tragic affair. The insane pum pings, drawn from Sarah, 
by bigots and curious fools, are simply the ebulitions of a diseased and 
distracted mind, replete with falsehood, contradiction and imbecility. She 
has but a very limited knowledge of the matter, and has issued a multi- 
plicity of absurd stories, interwoven and conglomerated into every variety of 
sheer nonsense, falsehood and faint shades of truth — any sensible person 
would forthwith consider them entitled to the highest disregard, contempt 
and disbelief. The whole secret of her pliability and blabbing, was simply 
this: Upon her being asked why she made a certain admission, which she 
knew to be an outrageous lie, "Why," said she, " they wanted me to say 
so, and so I said it." It is only to be regretted that some one did not 
want her to go to the d — 1. Perhaps, in her gentle and ubiquitous spirit of 
accommodation, she might have gone ! She was the passive tool and ser- 
vile instrument of the District Attorney, and sanctioned all the absurdity 
which he pleased to dictate. Nevertheless, in all her revealings, you dis- 
cover not so much a wilfulness or maliciousness, as an excessive weakness, 
pliability, or childish conformity to the demands and inquiries of others. Her 
blunders are pitiable, yet pardonable, for she was confused with morphine and 
excitement, and was in no condition to exercise what little sense and judgment 
she may have possessed in her days of rationality. I mention these things 
that they may palliate her errors. Were I particularly interested in 
public opinion on this point, I might unravel the whole tragedy ; but as I 
care nothing about it, 1 shall u lay my mouth in the dust !" 

It makes no material difference to me what the world say, even if I am 
laid to the rack, and held supremely responsible for the whole affair. I am 
certainly more capable of bearing it than all the rest put together. There 
are many absurd and incredible rumors in regard to this enormous affair, 
which are asserted and maintained with a dogged ignorance and stupidity, 
quite disgusting. 

I smiled to see it gravely stated that I fell from the bank on that fatal 
night. I shall leave upon record my emphatic denial of this assertion. It 
is plain to the reader, if I fell from that precipice, I must have fallen not 
less than forty-four feet, striking fairly on my head, and on my right shoul- 
tder, among jagged rocks. If the reader is sufficiently credulous and gullible 
do believe this outrageous story, then he must possess} a system of cre- 
dulity which swallows any species of absurdity. It is also asserted, that 
three of us went over the bank together; and this cannot possibly be true. 

I merely notice these trifling things because they have been more flung 
at me than others. They are positively false, yet they are among the vague 
conjectures, and preposterous rumors which have been received and believed 
with ridiculous rapidity. I am willing to admit that I fell more than thirty 
times on that fatal night, from ignorance of the ground ; and sometimes fell 
•most horribly ; yet I believe a man who goes over that precipice, head first, 
has done with time. 



15 

I have been deeply blamed for attempting to dispose of the body ; and, 
perhaps, I committed a fatal mistake — but circumstances would have pointed 
at me with frightful distinctness. Gentlemen should remember that subtlety 
is expected from me — not simplicity. I had nothing to attract me; and 
with the flickerings of a confused mind, sadly wandering from its usual- 
judgment and sanity, I did the best I could. Perhaps every man in the 
same position would have done the same. It is in perfect harmony with 
humanity to conceal a crime, after it is committed, especially; and I commit- 
ted an enormous one. 

It is very singular that one of the principal actors in this tragedy, and 
originator of the whole affair, is now circulating in the Rochester community. 

I regret to mar the seriousness of any remarks on that villain, ■ — , but 

I am constrained to designate him by the impious title of "Pimpy Snip" — 
somewhat comical, but extremely appropriate. He is a very ordinary man — 
low, vulgar, craven hearted. It is possible some few persons in Rochester 
will clamor fiercely for my blood, and yet tolerate in their midst this unprin- 
cipled, ignorant wretch. Is this humanity? But his wealthy friends, 
deceived by his perfidy and perjury, uphold and support him. He was the 
deadly enemy of Charlie Littles — their hatred was mutual. He was the 
associate of Irs wife, and was with her on this fatal Saturday night. He 
should thank his God, in sackcloth and ashes, that I did not meet him, face 
to face, on that night. Poor Pimpy ! There is evidently something 
weighing on his weak mind, and I will not embitter his life by any wither- 
ing flings. I only wish he had acted nobly and honorably in this affair ; but' 
I tell him now, " more in sorrow than in anger," to " purge the deep dam- 
nation from his soul," and accept my last pity and contempt. Like many 
other unhappy wretches who are scathed with a guilty conscience, he is 
steeping his soul in the drunken delirium of liquor; and I can only look 
upon him as a rotten candidate for h— 1 — with a brilliant prospect of election ! 
I whisper to him the simple word — "Beware/' 1 It means, vengeance is 
on his track ! My blood shall not sink into the ground ! You will yet be 
nailed to the cross, and " blood for blood," ring in your ears as you fall a 
corpse/ 

" And when from earth his spirit flies, 

Ju6t Heaven, let the damned one dwell 
Full in the Ight of Paradise. 

Beholding heaven — yet feeling hell \" 

I have never wished to avoid in this case a just and manly responsibility; 
but the innocent should not suffer; and as far as it is necessary to exonerate 
them, facts may be stated. A certain vulgar, ignoramus police official, 
who nobly wore all his hair off, in his superfine attempts to crawl un- 
der a sofa, employed a " thing in petticoats " to perform the low and con- 
temptible act of eaves-dropping, at my brother's bed-room. It is reported 
that my brother's wife remarked, " I knew they would have him killed be- 
fore we got home." This, of course, refers to the death of Charlie Littles. 
We infer from it, that the affair was premeditated and they possessed a com- 
plicity. This is most positively and decidedly false; and this rumor is simply 
a despicable fabrication of the said ignoramus official and his rotten thing in 
petticoats. Nevertheless, this said ignoramus official should receive a little 
ebarity.; because, not possessing common sense or judgment, he should not 



16 

be censured much for the non-exercise of those qualities which he evidently 
does not possess. 

The fact is, my brother and his "wife are entirely innocent of any connec- 
tion with the affair : and, moreover, had not the slightest suspicion of what 
had transpired, even after I had returned home, shattered to pieces. They 
were thoroughly deceived, as well as others, by that abomination about Gal- 
usha street, and had no conception of the different state of things, until they 
were partially developed next day at the police office. 

I state these things not as matters of fiction, for my brother and his wife, 
but of simple justice. And let me also add, while there generally is a slight 
reflection on the innocent relatives of any man who is charged with stupend- 
ous crime, that it is not fair or honorable that the guiltless should suffer 
any injury from the errors of their friends. Every one, as I conceive, should 
be honored and respected according to his own personal character, without 
regard to the passionate maneuvers or wild criminalities of his relatives. A 
man of talent and ability, whose character is noble, upright, and liberal, 
oiiould receive a passport to the. highest circle — no matter if all his relatives 
were " hung, drawn, and quartered." Merit should be acknowledged, whether 
it be found in a straw-thatched hut or gilded dome. 

If any error was committed by Charlie and Mother, in their search for 
the cap, breastpin, papers, and things, I alone am entirely responsible. I 
was suffering a trifle, by way of physical pain, and though I knew I was in 
a most infernal fix, and saw the fatal prelude to detection, in my own trou- 
bled condition, yet, for particular reasons, I may own I was anxious to hold 
it in abeyance to the latest period. 

The Galusha street affair was produced merely to deceive the doctors — It 
was told with surpassing coolness and seriousness ; but it was fearfully evi- 
dent to me, if I wished to stave off immediate discovery, some one must be 
despatched to the real scene of combat, to find the scattered articles. Char- 
lie and mother were called up, and ordered on this extremely disagreeable 
mission. I communicated none of the tragic circumstances to them, and 
said nothing more than specifying the place where my cap,*&c, might be 
found, expressing the emphatic wish, that they should be returned to the 
house before daylight. They acted under my orders ; and if any wrong is 
committed, it is but fair and just that I should assume the full accountabil- 
ity. They only acted as a mother and a brother should do, to assist a 
brother and a son, in so awkward a predictament as myself. Charlie and 
mother are unqualifiedly innocent, except the orders I gave them; and for 
which, as I have stated, they were not responsible. 

If I were to mention a single friend, who has shown an active, uniform 
nobleness of regard and affection for his brother, it would be little Charlie. 
Like my Counsel, he has never wavered for a second. He resigned his po- 
sition only when there was no possibility of holding it; and fell back, with, 
a coolness and energy, worthy of his older brother. This was well, Charlie; 
"do so always." Whenever your brother or sister is involved in trouble, al- 
ways be the first by their side and the last to leave them, I am very glad, 
brother, your good sense and honorable style of action, have won you 
friends who will advise and assist you, on your progress to manhood — now, 
brother, appreciate the importance of the opportunities you have, and be- 
lieve that I told you some profitable things in that long letter; you will read 
it again. 







17 

I wish to mention another thing for which this disgrace and accountabil- 
ity should recoil upon me. Up to the death of Charlie Littles, everything 
was purely accidental ; but from that time forth, as far as my capacity ex- 
tended, everything was subjected to the coolest and most adroit calculations ; 
and this was perfectly right and just. Sarah possessed some dangerous se- 
crets, singularly acquired, which worried me infinitely. I laid an injunc- 
tion of silence on her — dictated the Galusha street affair; located her posi- 
tion and character in the strange programme, which I assured her she must 
hold, "though heaven and earth should fall." I did it with a conception of 
her vast capacity for blabbing and want of stability. But stern, uncontrol- 
able necessity held me to the spot, and forced me to check or modify the 
knowledge she posessed, or the result would be most disastrous. 

This Galusha Street affair, which she repeated before that grand humbug, 
the Coroner's Jury, as well as denying everything else connected with the 
affair, has been, I think, very uncharitably called "perjury." Whatever 
other things she may be guilty of, she should not answer for this charge, for 
which I alone am responsible. Whatever* sin she committed there, it is an- 
other shame on my name — not heis. She was suffering much physical 
pain ; and it is quite evident she must have been under the influence of some 
satanic spirit, or she never could have exhibited that coolness and hardihood 
which are as far removed from her natural character, as hell from heaven. 
In point of spirit and energy, her conduct at the Police Office surpassed any 
thing I ever saw, in the shape of feminine flourishing ; and, had she contin- 
ued, under my control, she would have displayed the same sang froid from 
the alpha to the omega. The deductions which may be drawn from her 
subsequent weakness, are bitter, but let them tumble into oblivion, unre- 1 
corded. 

The perjury and villainy of " Pimpy Snip," he understands much better 
than I do ; and I may also add, I understand my own with the happiest 
perfection and comprehensiveness. It would be difficult, and perhaps, im- 
possible, to apportion the responsibility of this affair; but I am happy to 
say, Sarah is not guilty to the extent which many are willing to believe. 
Perhaps from her imprudent, unfortunate associations with "Pimpy Snip" 
they must ever be considered as the originators or " active causes" which led 
to the terrible collision. After. all, the lion's share was to remain with me; 
and perhaps, even as a matter of vigorous justice, it should. "Let the devil 
have his due," even though it were myself ! 

" It is time this heart should be unmoved, 
Since others it has ceased to move ; 
Yet tho' I may not be beloved, 
Still let me love. 
My days are in the yellow leaf; 
The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; 
The worm, the canker and the grief, 
Are mine alone I" 

I came to Rochester with the purest intentions. I had no object but to 
act justly and honorably. I believe my deportment was unexceptionable 
up to the time of this unhappy tragedy. Whatever hope and ambition I 
possessed is now sunk for ever. After I nad carefully investigated and un- 
derstood the position of things, I did all that mortal man could, in the 
. % 



18 

shape of defense, negociation and encouragement, to reconcile the differ- 
ences in the family. I failed. But there was a time when I did not faih 
How long I labored, and how well — how much I spoke words of peace 
and hope, will never be known. In what an exquisitely miserable position 
I was placed, and how I struggled, is also among the things less known. 
It accords with my knowledge and experience' to say, I acted like a man r 
and did the best I could. I have indeed grossly erred, but my errors 
originated more in the regard and affection I had for others, than from any 
personal motives. " There is a time when forbearance ceases to be a vir- 
tue." The conduct of Charles Littles completely shipwrecked all human 
faith and calculations. His grand stumbling blocks were drunkenness and 
excessive attachment to fast women and rotten institutions — a wretched 
want of decision — a most refined and vindictive jealousy — and a passion 
for vengeance, carried to the borders of insanity. Among those few whom 
Charlie regarded with the most deadly hatred, "Pimpy Snip" stood out 
in bold relief. Many were the plans he laid to 'sweep him from the earth : 
not that he cared much for his wife; but it galled Him supremely to see her 
noticed and respected after his desertion. Theie could not be any personal 
hostility between Charlie and myself, as long as he remained passive tow T ard 
me and mine; but in coolly contemplating his drunkenness, disease, inhu- 
man abuse, ingratitude and desertion of my sister, is it believed I respected 
him much? Oh no.! That is not humanity. It is. not mine, at least. 
"Do what is right," said I to Charlie, "and I will uphold and support 
you." Though his promises were all as false as ropes of sand ; though 
his resolutions "sprung to fall, and blossomed but to die," yet when he was 
drunk, I raised him up; when he was sober, I encouraged him ; when 
diseased, I assisted him ; when accused, I defended him ; and when I 
charged him with deception, and he called me a liar, / killed him! He is 
dead now. It is well. I have no tears, and but few regrets ; though, for 
the sake of others, I have shed tears. But his death is duly paid for with 
my own. And as terrible as men believe my character, and as anxious 
as they are to get me out of the w T ay, yet I would not fling my little finger 
in the scale against such a man. 

o 

" But I have been patient ; let me be so yet. 
I have not forgotten half I would forget. 
But it revives. Oh, would it were my lot, 
To be forgetful, as I am forgot!" 

Among those circulations of unhappy falsehood and slander, which have 
increased the prejudice and opposition against me, is the high and terrible 
crime of incest. I can only regret the circumstance which forces me to the 
notice and explanation of this vile calumny, as a piece of machinery to 
warp the public mind and create a venomous and deadly impression against 
me. It has been eminently successful. Even the District Attorney did 
not believe this atrocity, yet he attempted to make twelve sensible men 
believe it. This charge of criminality with my sister, (which sets murder 
far in the shade), I affirm, with the dignity and decision of a man, thai 
there is not one particle of truth in it! I do not mention this fact for 
the benefit of those who . are acquainted with me. I am pleased to say, 
those who know me never believed it for a single moment. It is difficult 
for me to conceive how men of judgment and intellect can believe me 



19 

capable of this crime; but I suspect, if it is believed true, il must be by 
those very few who are in the lowest cesspool of ignorance, credulity, vul- 
garity and depravity. 

As this special charge shows a sad perversion of trifling things, which 
were got up, and magnified, and made the foundation for this withering 
piece of slander, perhaps, it would be proper to state the entire facts. It is 
in evidence, that we did not succeed in moving the furniture to No. 1 5 
Monroe Street, until after dark. The household was in beautiful confusion, 
and beds were prepared according to circumstances. In the middle room 
two beds were separately arranged ; in one, slept Charlie and myself ; in 
the other, Sarah and Frankie. Was there any impropriety in this arrange- 
ment ? Perhaps, as a matter of rigorous etiquette, the beds should have 
occupied separate appartments. Under the circumstances, I am unable to 
see any impropriety. I believe, in such a position, everyone would have 
acted precisely similar. It was offered in the evidence of somebody, that I 
was seen lying on the bed with Sarah. This is true. I was lying across the 
toot of the bed, reading. Sarah was near the head. Those who issued the 
foolish report, whose names, as a matter of charity, I object to mention, were 
sitting in the rocking-chair. Was there anything wrong here ? Yet I am 
willing to admit I have been in a similar position two or three different 
times. But would it not be purely absurd to talk of criminality ? Let 
each man place himself in the same situation, and try to prove something 
wrong, in regard to himself, and he will easily discover the absurdity. 
But I will not stop to comment on such sheer foolishness. 

It is a!so seriously asserted, and attempted to be proved, that Charlie 
Littles had taken his wife out of my bed. I understand the stories which 
have been told on this point, and the reasons why they were toldv ; but I 
have nothing to do with the authors and their fell falsehood. Here are the 
facts to judge by : One Sunday morning, I came down stairs, about seven 
o'clock, dressed in my usual style, and entered the kitchen — Mother was. 
there alone. — " Has Sarah got up," said I. " No." " Well, it is time tc 
get up;'' and, as I started for the front room, where she slept, Charlie Littles 
entered the back door. A familiar word of recognition was passed, and I 
continued on to the room. I sat down upon the edge of the bed, and had 
just called Sarah, when Charlie followed me in. " Come," said lie, " Saitee, 
get up." She arose in her night clothes, and we all walked out into the 
kitchen. She afterwards returned to the front room with Charlie and 
dressed herself. Now, this is the whole truth and origin of that wretched 
story of Charlie Littles dragging his wife from my bed. This story was 
manufactured from the conversation of two irreconcilable petticoat factions. 
As one accused the other of sleeping with me, the other recriminated with 
a dash of falsehood, which wa3 answered an octave higher in lying. While 
the persecution, with justice and humanity, goes on, each catches up their 
contemptible colloquy, and holds me accountable for the whole. Is that quite 
right? It is presumed the reader understands something about the queer 
maneuvers of women, when they stand against each other, " fair faced." 

It is also asserted, I walked and talked a great deal with my sister, all 
alone ; and, moreover, the public (God save the public now !) did not know 
what we were talking about. Alas for myself, I am forced to plead guilt} 
to the attrocious and villainous act of walking and talking with my sister, 



20 

alone ; and all , patriotic ears must suffer extensively when they think the 
poor, doomed public are sadly ignorant of our conversation ! But, setting 
back all irony, is there anything wrong in this conduct towards my sister, 
because the public are not acquainted with our conversation ? Are they to 
infer, with puerile infatuation, that it was improper or vicious? Are not 
those stultified who exhibit a willingness to draw from these wretched asser- 
tions just the inference which the pitiable speaker demanded ? I am willing 
to acknowledge my associations with my sister. I also believe it is the right 
and duty of a brother, if he is capable of advising his sister, to instruct her 
in what he conceives just, proper, and beneficial. It is his sacred duty to 
support her when right, correct her when wrong ; and, above all, to defend 
her in every case. This is all I have done for Sarah. Perhaps I may not 
possess the vast mental penetration of some, or the moral acuteness of others, 
but to the best of my judgment, I can see not the slightest impropriety in 
my conduct towards my sister. If there is anything vile and despicable in 
this charge, I think as a matter of justice to the rest, that the accusers, and 
not the accused, should be accountable. I can only regret that such a report 
was ever circulated. It is positively false — yet it has told against me fear- 
fully in the estimation of the public. 

I pity the District Attorney for the course which he has seen fit to display 
towards me. I pity any man who will resort to such measures, merely to 
carry his point or injure another. I have considered this gross libel on hu- 
manity with some elaborateness, because it is a charge which has troubled 
me much ; and if I were guilty of it, I should only be too happy to go to 
h — 1, as soon as possible. It has been among my keenest regrets, that it 
should be credited, believed, and even forced on me, by any one. But I 
have said enough to convince any candid man of its fallacy. 

As my sister's character has been questioned in this relation to me as well 
as others, I would simply state, that, in regard to assignation with men for 
improper purposes, I have a moral certainty that she is entirely innocent. 
Her character is mild and moderate, dashed with the politeness, intelligence, 
and manners of a lady ; and her associations were respectable. Her mar- 
riage was unfortunate, but she is not amenable for the errors of others. 
Even amid the disease and desolation of her bridal home, she exhibited a 
a noble regard and affection, which should " cover a multitude of sins." 
Abused, diseased, and deserted by him who had sworn eternal protection 
and fidelity, like other human beings, she sought another heart to support and 
sympathize with her's. Who would not ? But has she not suffered enough ? 
Perhaps her sorrow and repentance have in heaven blotted out her frailties ; 
let them be pardoned on earth ! It is my dying petition, signed and sealed 
with my blood, that the public may be satisfied with my death, and restore 
her to liberty. I hope her friends will receive her with open hearts, and en- 
courage her with true Christian goodness and liberality. 

" It is night — when meditation bids us feel, 
We once have, loved, tho' love is at an end. 
The heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal, 
Tho' louely now, will dream it has a friend. 
Who, with the weight of years, would wish to bend, 
When youth itself survives young love and joy I 
, Alas ; when mingling souls forget to blend, 

Death hath but little left him, but to destroy, 
And, happy years once more, who would not be a boy!" 



21 

I look back upon those twenty-three strange, dark, eventful years, mis- 
called "my life," as the storm-king looks back upon his shattered path of 
gloom and desolation. Who is responsible for ray perverted powers? Who 
shall answer for the stains of blood that blot my name — and for the still 
more damning reproach of a suicide's grave? Perhaps lam the man! 
What matters it, whether I am or not? Who is more capable of bearing 

it? With a few noble exceptions, men have d d me for the seeming and 

the real. Let them d n away. Perhaps I might" be better, if men would 

think I were, — But if nearly every man's hand is against me, what do I 
care? I cannot flinch a hair's breadth from anything that walks this earth, 
whether " it comes in the shape of a spirit of health, or a goblin damned." 

To those who have importuned me by letters, publications, and pecuni- 
ary arguments, to scratch an autobiography, take my answer: " Whatever 
I may have been or am, both rest between God and myself!" 

Why should I unroll the cindered splendor of a faded existence — the 
dark maneuvers and positions of hell's satellites and central revelations — cui 
bono— except for the gratification of a diseased curiosity and the assuage- 
ment of a love of filthy lurcre ? Yet men tell me, with an air of candor 
and inflated sympathy, I should expound for the benefit of successors, the 
causes and events which led to my bad beginnings, downfall and death. 
This is well. The suggestion is even benevolent; but who cares for the in- 
fluence and philosophy which misled me ? Who cares for the examples and 
tuition which corrupted me, or the errors which ruined me? " .Never tum- 
ble in the dust, until you have fulminated anathemas against a contamina- 
ted influence of certain authors," said H — . On this point we differ. Is 
it politic to mention the titles of certain works in French and English, when 
these very titles may be twisted from their legitimate object, and made the 
instruments to obtain the books, instead of avoiding and condemning them? 
I have seen too many of these expositions, which, according to my obser- 
vation, have increased the immorality of the age, instead of diminishing 
it. Some of my evolutions and negations are by no means dangerous in 
point of imitation, as very few have the opportunity or capacity for commit- 
ting them. 

Not many boys have been so unfortunate as to be placed under the direc- 
tions of such grand masters of fraud and rascality — men of supreme talents 
and ineffable coolness — associations of the virtuous, and those who lack 
it — and with victimizers of every kind — with every conceivable species of 
adroitness, energv, and ability. This was my first school, into which I was 
introduced by my father, and acted as secretary, when only fourteen years 
old. What were the proceedings of these conclaves, will probably never 
be known — certainly not from me. - 

If I was to mention a single quality which has injured me more than all 
others, it would be adroitness with the pen. But I acted under the juris- 
diction of my father — the criminality of the transactions never occurred to 
me. I only knew the missions entrusted to my care must be executed with 
profound secrecy, correctness and decision; and, when he was satisfied and 
approved, I too was contented. I was sometimes placed in circumstances, 
where I was absolutely forced to perform some things from which I recoiled 
with strong feelings of aversion and disgust. I can only regret that my 
character was so sadly distorted and corrupted in my younger days. I am 



22 

what circumstances made me. And perhaps in the same position, any 
other boy, with a similar genius, would have developed a similar character. 
When men cooly consider my life, it should subdue the outrageous wonder 
which some express at the terrible character which they accuse me of 
possessing. 

I had decided natural ability — its perversion destroyed me — its proper 
direction would have made me respectable — influential — perhaps eminent. 
God Almighty, when he 'ushered me into this world, never intended I should 
be insignificant; and if not on the pinnacle of greatness and goodness, I 
must consequently be on the devil's highest peak, or some other bad emi- 
nence, in my older days. I have seen the excessive folly and impolicy of 
many things, and am quite sure I would never dream of the per- 
formance of some things in manhood, which I was forced to do when a boy. 
My last error, at least, has the merit of supreme originality — an event with- 
out a precedent — an episode in my life that astonishes me as much as any 
one else. 

To those last relics of my father's friends, I would suggest with the deep- 
est emphasis, that they carefully examine their life and position, and turn 
away from a course which inevitably leads to ruin, misery and degredation. 
Although, for the person who perseveres in a course of vice and rascality, 
there is no door open for his escape, yet there is an attraction and fascination 
even in misdirected talent, which, like the syren's voice, " allures but to de- 
stroy." Yet, some men would perish from ennui, unless engaged in the con- 
ception or execution of some game of victimising. This was my father's 
case. His natural powers, though rude and unpolished, were of a transcen- 
daDt orgler. I have seen him intercept the motions and calculations of others, 
and parry^their dark, dammed schemes, with a coolness and precision that 
astonished me. And this, perhaps with our close relation, is the reason why 
I paid that homage to him which I never could have offered to an inferior 
man. Like all men of his class — 

" His breath was agitation, and his life 
A storm, "whereon he rode to sink at last." 

I think a man would infer from my case, it is a " horrible crime" for a 
brother to sympathize and support his sister. It is a "horrible crime" to kill 
a brute, incurably diseased', in the defence of his sister and himself. It is a 
" horrible crime" for a brother to read books alone with her; to advise ac- 
cording to his judgment. Yet, in the face of all these horrible criminalities, 
let no brother love his sister the less. And when she has no one but a 
brother to defend her, and calls upon this hallowed name, let him never waver 
for a moment. Blood ! Blood ! Let rivers flow — let Heaven and earth fall 
—but a sister should never fall, as long as a brother stands firm ! Wo unto 
"the man who injures mine ! "It were better for him that a mill-stone were 
hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea." The noblest and 
most soul-inspiring object upon earth is a modest, sensible, high-souled beau- 
tiful woman. If men err in defending such women, it is a high and glori- 
ous enW, and the " recording angel in heaven's chancery will blot it out 
with a tear. 

" Yes I for a spirit pure as hers, 
Is always pure, e'en while it errs; 
As sunshine, broken in the rill, 
Tho' turned astray, is sunshine still !" 



23 

Who has witnessed or experienced the heroic love, sympathy, and devotion 
of woman, and will not pronounce upon them the purest and loftiest bene- 
diction ? This is no time to note exceptions. Whoever does not appreciate 
these mysterious divinities upon earth, and dares not assist them when in 
trouble,- has a soul which Gcd, man, and nature will not tolerate! Woman f 
thou art the key-stone of my ruin. Nevertheless, 

• " It is man's pride — 



His highest, worthiest boast ; 
The privilege he prizes most, 

To stand by helpless woman's side." 

Woman — whose reign began when the "Morning stars sang for joy," 
and shall only end "with the latest period of recorded time" — genial and 
beautiful — how frail and flexible — subduers and miners — supporters and 
rebuilders — the grandest institution of earth — essentialities of creation ; with 
a sublime host of contradictions — which even lordly man must not presume 
to " reek upon expression." 

I have lady enemies in Rochester. Of course I know it. What of it? 
I have lady friends, too — the highest, noblest, and the best. What hopes 
have been centered in me! What tears have been shed over me! What pray- 
ers have been offered for me ! — but no more! The object is sunk in the 
cold, dark grave. But woman's heart — how sublime is thy faith ! How God- 
like thy affections! 

My "beloved L , J , C , H , and others, accept my last 

and best farewell, offered in the bitterness of the heart. The voice you have 
heard so often, will soon be silent as the grave ; and the form you have 
pressed to your hearts, mouldering in the dust. Cherish and respect my 
memory, as one whom nature intended for greatness and goodness, 



But warped to wrong — 



Betrayed too early, -and beguiled too long." 

You know my spirit better than the unfeeling world. Once more, farewell/ 
I can only offer my best thanks and remembrance to the writers of numer- 
ous letters which have been received from sundry parts of the country, ex- 
pressive of the kindest regard, advice, sympathy, and consolation. The 
object was generous and benevolent, and the letters were properly apprecia- 
ted, though perhaps not so effective as the writers presume. More than 
three hundred of these have been answered, seriatim. It is hoped none of 
my correspondents possess so diseased an inclination for notoriety, as to offer 
these letters for publication. It is also believed no editor will be so incipidly 
foolish as to publish purely private, personal letters. The " Rochester Union 
& Advertiser" is of course an exception to this remark. 

The " Rochester Daily Democrat & American," of September 23, has just 
been received, containing a letter from Judge Johnson to my Counsel, veto- 
ing the application for a stay of proceedings. This decision was happily in 
perfect harmony with my own rigorous calculations, and consequently no very 
great disappointment. His letter, though tolerably sensible, is not in ac- 
cordance, with law or facts. 



24' 

I would again express my just acknowledgments to Mr. J; IT. Pomeroy, for 
his continued attachment to my case, supported by the highest energy and 
legal ability. Nevertheless, inihe words of Lady Macbeth, "We fail!" and 
ever will fail, as long as judges are frightened from the performance of their 
duty, by fear of public opposition and censure. It only costs me my life, to 
be sure, which is of no great loss to the world, but somewhat momentous to 
myself. ' 

" Man ! proud man ! dressed in a little brief authority — 
Most ignorant of what he is most assured — 
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven 
As makes the angels weep." 

My daily visitors are still numerous. Even from the first burst of public 
fermentation in this case, I have been regarded with a curiosity which 
knows no abatement. The motions of some are even amusing and laugha- 
ble. They seem to consider me a royal tiger, fresh from the jungles of 
Asia, and can't be coaxed nearer to me than twelve feet; while not a few, 
sensible communicative spirits, speak to me with mildness and moderation, 
as one gentleman speaks to another. Those who have read the tremendous 
and inflated invectives against me, express their astonishment when they 
view in me the conver.se of these descriptions. There is sympathy among 
men — manly and heroic. There is a still nobler and more inspiring sym- 
pathy among the " divinities of earth." This sympathy is generously offered 
me, sometimes with tears, and then our tears will fall together. Kindness 
and sympathy will accomplish what force and threats can never do — I know 
the philosophy which bears all earthly troubles without a sigh or a tremor: 
but I know of no philosophy which allows a civilized man to appear un- 
affected before the tears of a beautiful woman. 

After all the^ strong and savage passion against me, I have never been 
without friends and defenders — who indeed could not consistently apologize 
for the errors of myself, but they believed some regard, sympathy and hu- 
manity were due to a fallen brother, who had been more " sinned against 
than sinning." These liberal friends are duly regarded and estimated: but 
I regret to say, I do not possess the power of making them any adequate 
returns. 

I am pleased to issue my last and best remembrance and gratitude tomy 
learned judicial friend, the Hon. Judge Avery, for his manly interest and 
assistance, which were founded upon a better conception of my life, char- 
acter and actions, than many are willing to admit. I can only regret the 
views in regard to myself, were not permitted to be reduced to practice years 
ago; which, perhaps, might have allowed the world to understand me bet- 
ter before it was appointed unto me to die. 

And now, my honorable friend, I would simply say, in glancing over 
my bitter career, it accords with my last judgment to affirm, that the per- 
fidy and wretched injustice of the Russells contributed as much to my down- 
fall and present position as any cause I can assign. I remember with su- 
preme pleasure the satisfaction the article signed u H. L. H.," in which the 
views taken were honorable, generous and just; and let me assure U H. and 
" S." and several others, that I am glad to accord to them my best thanks 
and gratitude — though I have but a vague conception in regard to the real 
name of the authors. , ' 



25 

Mr. Bungay, of the " Central Independent," and Harry Page, of the 
" Livingston Sentinel," who are certainly forcible writers and liberal gentle- 
men, will accept my kindest thanks and warmest regards. They will proba- 
ably long remember their interview with the man in chains, while the said 
man remembers with pleasure that the interview was reported in a correct 
and honorable style, exempt from prejudice and malicious depreciation. A 
few more have occasionally shown the same sense, veracity and independence;, 
while others have entered, to acquire facts, only to misconstrue and misrep- 
resent them and vilify me. With puerile inconsistency have they written 
whole columns without a single accidental sentiment of good sense or truth. 

I would express my warm regards to my college chums and the President 
of the institution,* for their friendly and spirited efforts in my behalf. I 
am sure none of them have forgotton their old chum; and our associations, 
though brief, are still numbered among the luminous subjects that brighten 
my gloomy life, 

My thanks are due Dr. H. H. Langworthy, whose medical skill and per- 
severance raised me among the living things of earth, unhappily only to 
fall again, still lower. I believe, my dear Doctor, you are among the best 
and most liberal gentlemen in old Rochester ; and certainly your professional 
attendance was given with the kindest care and moderation, which was at 
least personally pleasing to your suffering patient. 

It is my last dying confession, that the " Rochester Union '' is a stale nui- 
sance. [Here follows a tirade against the editor and his associate, too vin- 
dictive for publication.] If the said gentleman, (God pardon the misappli- 
cation of that word gentleman,) takes an exception to this judicious view, I 
will not stop to argue the point; but I can furnish them a few hints on the 
art of " rolling down hill," to their eternal satisfaction — a science in whieh 
I have had some practice and thoroughly understand. 
• And was not Mrs. Littles' trial something of a farce? Was there not as 
positive evidence of guilt in her case, as in mine? Why should " Justice be 
laid to the line," in my case, while one equally culpable goes "scot free?" 
Is woman's guilt less odious than man's? Or shall one, when cognizant of 
murder, as an accessory before the fact, escape ? Yet, for my sister's sake 
I am glad ; though, when the arrangement was made for sacrificing me, a 
bolt from God should have brained them all ! 

" But no ! I will not curse them through the world ; \-.'' 

A curse will foliow them like the black plague, 
Tracking their footseps every day and night I " 

Upon every thing of importance, I generally insist upon my rights to 
investigation into the sources of trouble and confusion in this world. Men 
will talk largely on things of which they are profoundly ignorant, and will 
arraign and condemn others, on limited and fallacious views. 

This precipitate judgment is very frequent, usually unjust, and is always 
folly. My inexpressibly cool and original style of action, has been consid* 
ered the workings of " pride," "defiance," hardihood," "disciplined despera. 
doism," " talented villainy," and sundry other ominous expressions, which, 
by the way, are pure bosh. If nature intends a man for great reverses she 
generally endows him with a will and power of elevating himself to an 

*This refers, to Eastman's Commercial College, of Rochester. 



equality with any position. What matters it whether this power is under- 
stood or incomprehensible? Whether it is pride, philosophy, inherent ener- 
gy, constitutional temperament or anything you please, as long as a man 
possesses it, and who shall be damned because he does possess it ? 

The scene in the Court room is often flung at me. When that shattered 
skull was coldly introduced to my notice, it may have seemed " awful and 
appalling'' to some. No matter what it was to me. I considered it politic 
to be impassive, and remained so. Men may call it what they please — 
I knew my position. I knew what I had done. I knew what was in me, 
better than the public. Had the sentence been just — had the enunciation 
been exempted from that feverish vindictiveness — had there been less of 
that boasting and deadly anxiety to see me recoil and sink — perhaps the 
inward emotions might have been visible. Common persons, whose ambi- 
tion never received a worse check than a raw-hide, imagine they could not 
hold such a position for a moment; and childishly express wonder and aston- 
ishment at such a cool display of human power; to me they are only trifles. 
The man who has walked through hell, and died every day for seven years, 
will smile upon such a scene. It is only one of the events of my life. 

I have before me another scene, more intensely thiilling than God and 
nature ever witnessed — a night of dark, damned horror, which even the wan- 
dering spirits of hell's eternal space might contemplate with a shudder ! It 
was on the rushing river's bank, beneath the startling, ragged rocks, close by 
the roaring cataract ! I hear again the eternal thunders of the rushing tor- 
rent, which seemed a blast from hell ! I see again the gloomy precipice, 
shadowed on the sky, augmenting the horrors of the scene! The dim 
shadow of a man rioting in blood is before me! Cold shudders shoot over 
me, as I remember falling among jagged rocks in a heavy, corpse-like man- 
ner, in blood and death ! I arose, staggered, and fell. Speechless, yet in mo- 
tion, rising and falling with the steadiness of machinery ; every species of 
color floating before my eyes, and the sickening faintness and wild confusion 
only increasing the impenetrable darkness and horror! I might have fallen 
dead, it is true — but, give up, whether in good or evil, never/ 

The cold, night-winds, charged with icy spray, seemed the medical genii 
to cool the fevered brain of that strange quarto. One, had flown its hor- 
ror — another, was in deep insensibility — another, was a bloody corpse — the 
other, stood erect — an incarnate imp — dyed in blood, with bones shattered, 
and head presumed to be on the shoulders — but no certainty. Yet. the 
same feeling of power was in the mind, and the same inflexible coolness in 
the motions. What demon can support a man in a position so horrible ? Let 
the reader decide. What is it to face death in the bright sun light of a 
crowded Court-room, to anight of blood and death like this? What is it to 
face anything, if there is a deep and absolute conviction you are equal to 
any situation ! Even as I sit here, by this little stand, — alone, wra"pt in all 
that chilling mystery I am in, with a firm belief that I shall be a corpse in 
a few hours — there is a power within sufficient to make all things subject 
to itself ! The mind has been my God. 

M The immortal mind superior to its fate, 
Amid the outrage of external things. 
Firm as the solid pace of this great world. 
Bests on his own foundation. Blow, ye winds I 



27 

Ye "waves ! Ye thunders, roll your tempests on 1 
Shake, ye old pillars, of the marble sky. 
Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire, 
Be losened from their thrones; yet still serene 
The uncocquered mind looks down upon the wreck, 
And, ever stronger, as the storms advauce 
From thro' the closing ruin holds Irs way, 
Where nature cals him to the destined goal !" 

Tuition, discipline, and. desperate circumstances have made me what I am 
— no matter what. I will not prate about what I might have been; it is 
sufficient that I am not The best men in Rochester, for whom I have the 
highest respect, have advised me in regard to the injurious and killing fact of 
my demeanor. I would act differently if I could in reality and sincerity ; 
but when I stoop to any whining or crying, or any puerile conduct, merely 
to save my life, " Ye gods, be ready with all your thunderbolts and dash 
me to pieces !" I have only one style of action ; if men don't like it, tbey 
perhaps know what they can do. I receive no benefits — want no favors, 
that must be gained by digusting hypocrisy and adulation. 

" They might as well attempt to chain 
The north wind in a hurricane ; 
Make rivers run up hill by fright'niug, 
Or still the march of kindled lightning !" 

Every one should possess sufficient philosophy to bear the ordinary re- 
verses of life, without weakness or irresolution. A man, as I humbly con- 
ceive, should combat the world with a mind broadly expanded ; and know- 
ing the mutability of human things, he should be ready to adapt himself to 
circumstances. It is not supposed that many will be forced to encounter some 
of my convolutions ; but I have only tried to hold my troubles in subject- 
ion. I glory in my success. I have aimed to preserve my personal identity 
and be the same in every position, whether in society or solitude ; whether* 
in a condemned cell or a classic boudoir: — ever and eternally the same. A 
slight flush in the face, a strange look from the eyes, a fierce and savage 
utterance, is all one can discover of my terrible passions, until they burst the 
barriers of control ; and then T sink everything, and, at last, myself! It is 
well ; perhaps, it is wise. Yet, after all, with a deeper and more bitter 
feeling than Byron ever felt, take this verse of his as more expressive of my 
heart than anything else lean offer: 

" Full many a stoic eye and aspect stern, 
Mark hearts where grief hath little left to learn ; 
And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost, 
In smiles that least befit those who wear them most." 

Among the things which visit me occasionally, during this cool and rapid 
writing, are the daily papers. I had just read in the "Rochester Democrat and 
American," of September 29th, the Opinions of the Supreme Court in my 
case. Unhappily, I have no time nor inclination to issue any very exten- 
sive criticisms. Nevertheless, I venture to take forcible exception to the 
Hon. Judge Welles' postulate, as well as his deductions. The Hon. Judge 
indulges in some very suspicious sophistry on definite opinions, (fee, which I 
believe a critical analysis of words and opinions would completely cverturn 
To me, the juror, Tower, was clearly incompetent. He is a good man, and 



28 

would have made an unbiassed juror, had it not been for public prejudice 
and opposition. There is a striking analogy between Cancemi's case and 
my own. If one was reversed, the other, as a matter of irresistable conse- 
quence, should also be reversed. Had there been more politics in my 
case, it would unquestionably have been put through favorably; but, in the 
absence of wealth and political things, a man's life and liberty in law are not 
worth one d n. 

If a man questions the correctness of this sentiment, let him look at the 
eternal purity and equity of our Criminal Courts in the last century. But 
the Judge aLo makes a grand point of that barbarous charge of incest. 
If it were true, I am willing that it shows a motive according to the Hon. 
Judge, but its thorough and unqualified falseness vetoes the idea of 
motive, and shows its rigid irrelevancy. The fact is, this whole point 
bears indisputable evidence of falsehood and injustice. Men will only 
believe what they wish to be true, and sometimes resort to very ex- 
ceptionable agencies to carry their point. It is not presumed that 
Judge Welles gives implicit credence to this charge, which he pro- 
fesses to admit. I believe he argues upon it merely to justify an un- 
just decision and establish a monstrous fallacy. His blind belief, is simply 
one of convenience; not of justice or reality. To produce a motive, was the 
grand desideratum; and the prosecution had resource to some very unten- 
able measures to accdmplish it. The fact is, no motive on my part can be 
shown, except the natural opposition which a brother must ever have towards 
the man who abuses his sister; but the District Attorney perfectly under- 
stands, as well as many others, how essential it was to get me out of the 
way, and will probably breathe more freely when it is accomplished. I 
wonder if the said official ever philosophizes on these things. But no mat- 
ter ; I have paid my little fine of ten dollars, which is the standard penalty. 

The Opinion of Judge Smith is more judicious, elaborate and logical ; 
but I object to his reasonings and conclusions. I leave my solemn protest 
against the proceedings in opposition to me, which have been, with very 
few exceptions, unjust, illegal and inhuman. 

I have performed different acts, from irresistable necessity. Let me com- 
mit one more — destroy myself ! " Life is a stage where every man must 
play a part, and mine has been a desperate one.'' The hand which has de- 
fended me so long and well, shall now lay me low ! I w r ill not stoop to the 
justification of suicide, nor quote a single authority or precedent, though 
eminent ones exist. I intend the agonizing appeals and poisonous offerings 
of friends to impel me to this sublime act. Murder is one of the fine arts, 
according to De Quincy. It is a Christian virtue, .according to Mr. Ira Stout! 
So F. says, and he is an infallible philosopher. But this last coup de main 
of a model artist, is the result of stern will, necessity and desperation. The 
twice told tale of blood must be floating on the wings of the wind, but such 
a death is in supernal harmony with my damned life — a calm, natural char- 
acter, death would be a solace too glorious for earth. Nevertheless, I regret 
the ferocious laws and circumstances which force me to the commission of an 
act so unhallowed and pitable. Yet it must be done; whether perpetrated 
by the sheriff or myself, it is cool, deliberate, shuddering murder; but I can 
defend myself more effectively than the sheriff. Amen! 



29 

"Oh God, it is a fearful thing, 

To see a human soul take wing, 

In any shape, in auy mood ; 

But when it rushes forth in blood, 

Who shudders ? Not me. the clotted corpse 

May sting in others dark remorse !'' 

If any mortal thing imagines I will tamely submit to the awkward operation 

of hanging, they are fatally and foolishly mistaken. That ain't my style, 

laus Deo. Whether this last act will send my soul to eternal perdition, as 

some simple-minded persons will presume, is not for the image of God to 

decide, 

" The soul, secure in its existence, smiles 

At the drawn dagger and defies its point. 

The stars shall fade ; the Sun himself 

Grow dim with age. and nature sink in years, 

But thou shalt flourish in jmmor.tal youth, 

Unheard amidst the war of elements, 

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds." 

Though I have no fears for my soul, which, I apprehend, can take care 
of itself; though I would not object to dying differently — I would be infi- 
nitely pleased to die like a Christian. But this is utterly denied me, in a 
community pretending to be enlightened, refined and Christian. The reason 
probably is, that it would not be called upon to render substantial expenes # 

The strong and chilling conviction, that at last I would terminate my* 
own " superior existence," is the principal reason why the advice and argu- 
ments of Christian ministers, the influence of eminent precedents, and the 
impressive appeals of the Bible, have been resisted,, and are of "none effect ;" 
and, finally, are comprehensively rejected. But on this point, in my case, it 
accords with my experience and observation, that where the sense of the 
truth, and necessity of spiritual things is but faintly, imperfectly perceived, 
perhaps it would be better to issue advice, sympathy and encouragement, 
instead of foolish censure, barbarous names, and wire-drawn damnation. 

I do make a few happy and honorable exceptions to these remarks. I 
remember, with the deepest and most heartfelt respect and gratitude, my 
Christian advisers Professors Hotchkiss and Cutting, as well as William C. 
Bloss and James P. Ludlow — all generous and liberal men, of extensive 
judgment and ability, which is refined by a manly and sincere belief in the 
religion of Christ. Their object was benevolent and pure ; and while I 
appreciate an even mental interest, in " God's way of salvation unto men," 
which they truly assisted me to apprehend ; yet, my own inherent view 7 s 
and opposition prevented me from actively believing and proclaming. 

I remember several other pious and high-minded persons, with the pro- 
foundest esteem and gratitude ; and my last thoughts of them are to pro- 
nounce upon their Christian hearts and goodness the best benediction my 
dark soul can conceive. 

Had I suffered less from man's inhumanity, less from the destructive in- 
fluences of my younger dajs, I might have been a Christian, It is all 
passed now; and, among other strange things that have passed away, is 
myself. But, Ludlow, " friend and brother," to whom belongs " every 
virtue under heaven," accept the dying gratitude and homage of a spirit 
that can appreciate your virtue and talent, but cannot equal them. W 7 hat a 



\ 



30 

blight and chill will sweep over your generous heart, when the dark tale of 
blood shall ring through Rochester, — your brother is murdered ! — and your 
beloved friend, Mrs. L., and many others, whose interest, sympathy and 
assistance, were nobly offered and gratefully received. How bitter will 
be their feelings, and how deep and heart-sickening their pity ! Do you 
remember the influences which operated upon me? It is enough. I 
die in a spirit of independence, self-sufficiency and sincerity. Men might 
have charged me with deception had I died with forgiveness on my tongue, 
and damnation in my heart ; or, prating about other foolery, which I disre- 
gard and condemn, or professing belief in the vicarious offering of Christ — 
when I believe nothing of the kind, or acknowledging the Master when I 
never had one ; or admitting subjection and homage which I never felt. 
What I conceive to be right, just, expedient and necessitous, I have expressed 
and done. 

" My soul recources in the path I trod, 
Were these my will, my strength, my love, my God. 
The last, I left in youth. He leaves me now! 
And man but works Ms wile to lay me low, 
I have no thought to mock his throne with prayer. 
It is enough; I breathe, and lean bear!" 

Nevertheless, many of those who have expressed a favorable wish that I 
might become a humble, penitent fanatic, have certainly taken a very foolish 
course, and unpolitic style of advising and correcting me. I think the feel- 
ings of many on this point will admit of the following interpretation: — 

" Stout, you d d, proud, independent, victimizes and murderer. 

bow in the dust, and whine like a fool and coward ! Despise and make your- 
self so low and despicable, that every one despises and d — ns you ; and 
then you are about right.'' Perhaps this is pretty strong; it is also pretty 
true. It is not the "vulgar, ignorant- villain," as one paper coolly informs 
me, but " the capable, the talented, the boastful monster." And this is 
hut one of those numerous bursts pf weakness and prejudice which have 
been issued against me, and which I have generally passed by, with a smile 
of superlative contempt and disgust. These profound fools and bigots will 
invent some vague, indefinite standard, which nobody understands, and which 
they do not understand themselves. And all who are not precisely equal 

to it, are d d and denounced with puerile ignorance and precipitation, 

because my views in some things are exactly coincident and uniform with 
some of my visitors. They pass away, and forthwith assert that I am cor- 
rupted beyond the ordinary grade, and too proud and impenitent for -ad vice; 
certainly too proud and impenitent t<t> be advised or corrected by Albany 
pimps, bigots and fools, of course no particular allusion to the A. <fe A. ; 
but memory will wander. . 

After all, it has been somewhat amusing, as well as disgusting, to observe 
the wretched misconstruction and misrepresentation of ordinary conversa- 
tion. Having in casual conversation questioned the validity of some of Bishop 
Butler's deductions, I was forthwith charged with " radical atheism" — a 
charge which some imagined was abundantly confirmed by obvious remarks 
on the philosophy of Proudhon, Bolingbrooke and Hobbes. To mention the 
name of Hume, was deism personified, and eternal wrong. Any remarks 
on will and necessity, borrowed from the profound and pious Edwards, were 



SI 

sufficient to warrant the charge of " wretched fatalism" and "cold, passion- 
less fatalist;" and even if I acknowledge myself benighted with pride, error, 
and philosophy, and prayed in the dying words of Goethe for " light, more 
light," yet my efforts, however sincere, were considered forced, mechanical., 
pharasaical, and hyprocritical. I am induced to believe that more mildness* 
moderation and liberality, might have been shown by those who attempted 
to eijvate me to their own self- consoling and superior style of criticism and 
belief; but certainly pseudo fcheology, inflated dogmas, exploded systems. 
and incomparable absurdities of Jack Davis, are not much superior to Hume, 
Kant, or Leroux. I remember, with the highest pleasure, my conversation, 
with numerous visitors; but if I am wrong, barbarous names and villification, 
are not the instruments of revolutionizing my character. My dogmatism 
and self-sufficiency are but a palpable inference from my life. 

In the days of my boyhood, confinement in sublime solitude for five years, 
without scarcely seeing a single personage, with whom a rational conversa- 
tion might be maintained, has helped some in a situation so unnatural, and 
opposed to all human arrangements and instincts. I became habituated to 
excessive self-involution, rioting in mental abstractions, and all things trans- 
cendentalized by a strong exaggeration of the powers and of the intellects., 
and its own beauty is the mind diseased, and fevers into a false creation. In 
solitary confinement the mind recoils upon itself, attempts by the force of in- 
herent energy and ideal power to fill that vacuum engendered by an exemp- 
tion from associations with the world. While the mind, in its celestial flights, 
may become elevated and expanded, yet every moral attribute a man pos- 
sesses is chilled, corroded and destroyed — all the goodness and philanthro- 
py in a man, more or less blighted and crushed. I know whereof I affirm. 
This is not a rash and rapid conclusion of a novice, but the cool deduction 
of one who has passed through years of bitter experience and observation. 
One might as well attempt to still the march of a thunder bolt as to try to 
escape, in some degree, this moral corruption of solitary confinement, — 

" For solitude, whatever some may rave, 
Seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave — 
A sepulchre in which the living lie, 
Where all good qualities grow sick and die !" 

It is not a moderate quantity of solitude and temporary seclusion which 
is generally pleasing and profitable, bu't a continued, excessive, coerced soli- 
tude, which is withering, corrupting, destructive, and in opposition to all 
human instincts, associations and humanity. The moral beauties of the sou], 
which is one of the vitalities of man, is blighted and wronged. 

" I once was quick in feeling, that is o'er ; 

My scars are calloused, or I would have dashed \ 
My brain against the bars, as the sun flashed 
In mockery through them ('» 

A man, in a position so unnatural, becomes a regular sui homo, dreaming 
in metaphysical crowds of things not of earth, and forming an ideal worship 
and character which has no common part in the world ; and even when re- 
stored to light and society, he seeks among the majestic imps of earth for a 
congenial spirit to "share with him the glories of earth and sky," but finds 
none ; and though in society, surrounded by " minions of splendour, shrink- 



32 

iugfrom distress," he is as much a solitary man as in the gloomy loneliness 
of a condemned cell. With a deeper feeling, and a sterner hope, he may 
pore over the unfading power of souls spread forth in imperishable types, 
and find among them the spirit which he seeks — it is Byron. Have I not 
revelled in thy dark, deep spirit's might, Byron ? Thou poet monarch of the 
earth and sea ! If there is insinuating corruption and licentiousness in By- 
ronic power, I shall never be pure. It is enough that I see the brilliant 
bursts of vast and powerful intellect; and I see grandeur of pride and pas- 
sion and inspiring magnificence, which are to me among the unsullied beau- 
ties of earth which never fade. The only spirit which I acknowledge among 
men is the intellectual; and he who possesses the profoundest, most enegetic 
and refined mind, is entitled to the empire. My riotings in Byron were purely 
intellectual, and if gentlemen affirm, as some do, that he, has fatally corrupt- 
ed me by his moral misanthropy, or proud rejection of heaven and hell, I am 
happy to say, with the highest regard for Byron, I do not think he is capa- 
ble. He can only fling pride, power and beauty, or a temple, dark and 
wrong; but I am willing to admit, if gentlemen please, the moral deficiency 
even in pondering the immortal analogy of Butler, or part of the writings of 
Hume or Edwards. A strong mental elation and excitability is felt from 
the discussion of solid logic and condensed expression ; yet there is no propor* 
tionate elevation of the moral or religious nature. 

However bright and glorious the sun of Righteousness may be to some, 
to me it is but a trifle more luminous than a midnight cloud. Perhaps the 
religion of Christ is immeasurably superior to other systems of faith and 
worship. Perhaps the world never saw a character of more spotless purity 
than Jesus Christ; yet how much is known or understood of his mission? 
If ever God was on earth, He came in Christ. But one can but regret in 
coolly observing human operations, how sadly this beautiful system is dis- 
torted, abused, partizanized and neglected. " Where falls this censure," as 
Young says, " it overwhelms myself." Does it overwhelm the reader ? 

Though I may have different views on these things, yet I have seen so 
much happy faith, tinged with celestial beauty, that I would not disturb its 
peaceful glory, for the highest crown the world could offer. Perhaps I have 
not arrived at the age of life requisite to understand these things; but I can- 
not see how one can believe thoroughly and act forcibly and sincerely upon 
a belief which he cannot understand ; and this simple want of comprehen- 
sion, is the reason of so much vacillation, absurdity and hypocrisy in spirit- 
ual things. To acquire faith, reason, philosophy, and mental penetration, 
must be rejected. It cannot be attained by the force of resolution, or by 
any process of logic. " Who is sufficient for these things." " That there is 
a God, all nature cries aloud, through all her works;" and perhaps, as a 
matter of courtesy, we ought to believe He " delights in virtue," though a 
very curious and original virtue ; and perhaps we ought to wonder at the 
operation of human things, which are sufficently incomprehensible for any 
vampire of darkness and mysticism. It is difficult to avoid a dogmatist or 
rationalist in speaking of unutterable things. 

The Bible is entirely worthy of God as God is of the Bible. And both 
are responsible for some very dubious exploits. It is a profound, original, 
mysterious old book of laws, customs, order, philosophy and poetry, though 
chiefly remarkable for its pliability, in support and continuation of every 



S3 

species of creed, system and theory. One cannot help smiling to see how 
quietly and perseveringly the contents of the Bible are twisted to give a sa- 
tisfactory support to some system, sect, opinion, dogma, absurdity, or any 
thing else. The Bible is ubiquitous and all-sufficient. Let us suppose that 
a necessity existed to show the Bible doctrines in relation to suicide. This 
is the style : 

Did'nt Judas commit suicide ? 

Did'nt Christ say, go thou and do likewise? 

Therefore, Christ recommended, and even commended, suicide ! This is 
rather an impious silogism, and perhaps is very transparently absurd ; never- 
theless, it is just as correct, profitable and legitimate, as many of those exiget- 
ical inflations, dignified by the titles of Commentaries, Expositions, &c, &c. 
Perhaps we ought to believe the immortality of the soul is something more 
than a sublime principle, according to " Cousin," a French philosophical 
writer ; or we ought to modestly wonder why evil exists in the face of infi- 
nite goodness and mercy ; or smile at the host of other incomprehensible, 
omnipresent things. It is also not especially clear to me why we should be 
materially alarmed about our destiny, if God possesses an infinity of good- 
ness and love ; or why we should talk, finally and fancifully, about hell, when 
it is utterly inconsistent with the boundless mercy of God for hell to exist. 
But what do we know of these things, except that we know nothing. We 
can only reduce these things to a rigorous calculation, and then quietly wait 
fa* the solution of the mystery — note our approximation, and continue the 
process. Even the Sun of Righteousness, and the light of revelation, throw 
but a dim twilight on the future world. I am not agitated about the safety 
of myself or my future condition. I want no assistance from seeming equals ; 
and I have no superiors. 

It may be a matter of curiosity to some to know whether I die acco:ding 
to Bolingbrook, who considered revelation and immortality all " phantasy 
and priest-craft ;" or Kant, who innocently had " no notions of a future 
state ;" or Hobbs, poor d — 1, who unceremoniously took a " leap in the 
dark." It would not be fair to run opposition to Hobbs. I would have 
decided advantage over him, from the fact of having taken several exquisite 
leaps in the dark! Alas I, for man, he is a droll animal. We can expand 
the dignity of his nature till he becomes a God. JWe can unroll its corrup- 
tions till he becomes a demon. 

'. '. Newton, Foster, Butler, and numerous others, with profound and powerful 
intellects, were firm in the religion of Christ. 

Yet Bentham, Lord Jeffrey, Hume, and a" brilliant host of England and 
America, equally profound and penetrating, were disbelievers. This oppo- 
sition is probably one of those deep, impenetrable mysteries, which, like the 
attributes of God, defy all human calculation. When man pursues the 
hair-splitting logic of mental science, and the complicated abstractions of 
mathematics ; and yet his belief in religion is confirmed and increased ; 
another, perhaps with equal power, and the same view, becomes a thorough 
skeptic, or elevates himself to a God, and establishes Jiis own philosophy of 
life and death, Another becomes a luke-warm philosophical Christian, 
founded upon some logical process, proving the religion of Christ to be 
questionable, though superior to all other systems of faith and worship ; and 
consequently reducing Christianity to a mere nominality. " Who is suffi- 
cient for these things ?" If I have failed to understand religion as it should 



34 

be, I have failed in the broad sun-light of intellect, and every species of 
precedent, and illumination. But I can look sternly towards the blue dome 
of God, and say, a system of faith and worship which requires a resignation 
of reason and judgment to believe, is a system whose hell I do not fear, 
whose heaven I do not want. So, farewell to these mystic contemplations, 
which have been to me a source of infinite pleasure, though undefinite and 
incomprehensible. 

I would express my last thanks and gratitude to those humane individuals 
who have generously attempted to procure a commutation of my sentence, as 
well as the repealment of the law of Capital Punishment. I wish them 
the greatest success in their attempts to accomplish its abolishment; nor can 
I be accused of selfishness in this expression. It certainly will never bene- 
fit me. Then, perhaps, some mother, bowed with suffering, may have 
a son unjustly condemned to die, whose life may be spared. Or, some 
noble brother or sister, whose brother's blood is clamored for, may preserve 
his life by humane and better provision. 

Though I have written some letters and articles on my own case, yet 
/ never advocated the commutation of my own sentence for a single mo- 
ment — whatever I have spoken and written against it. My resolutions were 
formed before my trial. Circumstances might modify them, but nothiDg 
can overturn them. It makes no possible difference to me, whether a Gov- 
ernor will interfere or not. I will not condescend to ask him. I wanted, 
and even asked for an extension of time, that I might finish a long paper in 
my possession, but I was forced to throw it aside, without an answer ; and 
now, his reply, whether favorable or not, is of no consequence. I have 
much to live for, it is true. I have much that should compel me to live, 
besides something in me which I would be pleased to develope. But this 
cannot be done in a State prison, Moreover, I might as well die at twenty- 
three, as at fifty — I cannot see the distinction, except that I might die in a 
different state of mind at some future time — (a consummation devoutly wished 
for.) I present my last regards for that original plan of forcibly escaping from 
this place, put forth by G — H — and others, but I don't fancy my " role." 
For further opportunities, read my misographic letters, in which I believe 
the chances are calculated with mathematical accuracy. Had you acted with 
more rapidity and decision, and been less influenced by the arguments and 
fallacies of others, your plan might have been executed cooly, easily, and 
successfully. " You thought I would fight, if reduced to an extreme point" 
You had no business to think so. You had no license to drive me to such 
an extremity : especially when you know I never fight, only when unavoid- 
able ; and then — but you know the rest. Who has ever lived to boast of 
his fight with me. I would rot in these chains, or consign myself to the 
eternal rack, before I would recover my freedom by the cold-blooded de- 
struction of men who never injured me. It is vain to talk of others, G — ; 
you are greatly to blame, and when you have another friend, even though 
in a less deplorable condition than myself, it is hoped you will not flinch, 
like a fool and a coward. 

I only wish to sing my farewell song to several friends, and then give up 
the ghost to the argument. 

"Why should I wish to hold, in this low sphere, 
A dark and fearful being? Wherefore try. 
Coldly, from day to day, to linger here 
Against the powerful hand of destiny?" 



35 

And now, memory recalls the countenances of' 5 those at home." Accept 
in kindness my last farewell ! 

My Beloved Mother : — If I knew a name higher and holier, it should be 
yours ; receivamy kindest attgl most affectionate Farewell, in this world, which 
ha3 indeed been a troubled one to us. You have gained some things, moth- 
er, but lost your son. Don't imagine that I blame you, because I do not 
I deeply pity others, that things should be in a position so unhappy ; but as for 
me, I am content. I would be pleased to live, mother, for your sake and 
others, not mine : but in the face of all I have suffered, and would have to 
pass through even if my life were spared, will you ask me to live ? I know 
what human promise is ; I know what human resolution can do. I am willing 
to display all the regard and affectionate judgment I possess in deciding these 
things, but in doing this I am driven irresistibly to death. 

In my younger days, mother, you did all a good mother could do to make 
me great and good. My first thought of God and goodness, I learned from you ; 
and the first prayer I ever said, you taught me. My attachment to books and 
knowledge, 1 owe to you ; and any qualities that may redeem my character, are 
the result of your teaching. All my badness and perversion should rest on 
father and myself My beloved mother, how good and eminent I might have 
been had I done as you taught me. It is my last regret that I dia without 
making any return for all you have done forme. Bat there is no hope or 
prospect of accomplishing this left me, mother. You will not mourn too 
much over me, mother ; we must all lie down alike in the dust. And 
what matters it, whether we die in the prime and glory of youth, or the weak* 
ness of age ? Where shall my grave be, mother ? Let it be where you and 
Charlie and Frankie can visit it. Bat you have another son, mother, the no- 
blest and the best. Oar happy Charlie — than whom a better son and brother 
never adorned the earth — will remind you of the one you have lost. The 
.hopes wrecked in me, may be realized in him. He has all the power of 
your tall son, without his terrible experience and unfortunate associations. 

And now, mother, you will listen to me more than others ; let me say, on 
the authority of that immortal book called the Bible, there is a better and a 
brighter world, where peace and happiness reign eternally. By sincere prayer 
and repentance, a true faith in Christ, a pure and holy life, this world of 
deathless beauty and affection may be attained. Though you have lived, moth- 
er, an upright Christian life, yet, with a deeper feeling and a purer interest, 
believe more strongly, the inspired truths of the Bible, and live nearer the 
Savior of the world. This simple belief and prayer will be your support and 
consolation under all troubles, and cheer the bed of death with a hope of 
happy immortality. And when long years have rolled, mother, and you have 
passed from earth, may you reach that world of love and light, and enjoy 
that peace and contentment which you have not found on earth. Receive the 
visits and counsels of our learned Christian friends, Mr. Ludlow, Mr. Win. C. Bloss 
and others, who are among God's best and purest children on earth. I have 
exonerated you and Charlie from any connection in this terrible affair, and 
also stated other expositions as matters of defense, judgment and necessity. 

And now, mother, farewell ! As my first looks of love and h'ope were 
turned to you, so take my latest love and blessing. 

" And if there be some happier sphere, 
Where fadeless truth, like ours, is dear; 
If there be any land of rest, 
For those who love, and ne'er forget, 
Oh, Mother mine, all safe and blest, 
We'll meet in that calm region yet" 

I am yours in death, as in life, mother. MARION IRA STOUT. 

My darling little Fraxkie : — I send you a brother's last and best fare- 
well ; and hope my little sister's' path may be all brightness, peace and pu~ 



36 

rity ; and that her life may be made up of everything fair, useful, and beau- 
tiful. Go to school every day, Frankie, love ; study hard ; read all the good 
books you can get ; learn to think ; mind our mother ; read my little letter I 
gave you, and keep all my other things. Farewell, my beloved little sister. 
How much I regret to leave you, you do not know ; but even from the spirit 
world I shall watch over your progress with a brothers eye and heart. 
"Live, Frankie, and live happy" — "pride of my past days, and glory of my 
present." 

" Oh, you'll remember me, Frankie — 
Thou child of love and light; 
Though dark my path may be, Frankie, 

May yours be ever bright i 
May cares and sorrows seldom shade 

Thy mild and sunny soul; 
May earthly joys, that never fade, 
Around thy pathway roll 1" 

Charlie :-— My great brother, accept my long and last farewell. I regret^ 
brother, that my life is terminated, because I believe my experience in books, 
men and things, would be of much advantage to you in your pilgrimage 
through the world. I understand the faults that I possess ; the wrongs that 
shattered my " stately craft," and could easily prevent a similar misfortune to 
you. You have my strong hopes and wishes, that your life may continue 
high, upright and honorable. Improve the opportunities you possess. Re- 
ceive and appreciate the assistance, and practice the good counsel which Mr. 
Pomeroy and others will give you. I would have you cultivate your judg- 
ment and intellect, brother, and acquire that habit of examining and reason- 
ing which is the foundation of all solid attainments. 

Thefe is nothing in my character, brother, that I want you to imitate 
except the steady uniformity of my action, my attachment for books 
and knowledge, and my style of bearing all things coolly, firmly, un- 
subdued. Respect and defend my memory, no matter what the world 
say. It is for you to be my friend, when every one else deserts me ; 
and remain firmly by my side, when every one wavers. I wish you 
would read the Bible, brother, even as a matter of intellectual eleva- 
tion, if nothing more. A book like the Bible, Charlie, which was read 
and eulogized by Washington, Adams, and Franklin, is worthy of your at- 
tentive perusal and examination. If you can believe "these things," brother, 
I say, believe them; it will make you better in this world, as an unerring- 
standard of judging between right and wrong ; and I am also willing to be- 
lieve it will make you better in another world. I wish you would observe 
the characters of learned, sincere Christians, and see how much they are 
exalted and enobled by a true belief and practice of the religion of Christ. 
" By others' faults, brother, wise men correct their own ;" and the converse 
should be equally true. By others' virtues, wise men acquire and improve 
their own. 

I would say much more to you, brother, if I were not persuaded you are 
under the jurisdiction of those more capable of directing you than myself. 
Be strong ; have courage ; do everything that is right ; submit to nothing wrong. 
If the weird glories of the spirit-land, brother, can watch and guard the 
worldly souls they love, then shall my spirit be with you and support you. 
Be a good boy to mother and little Frankie. Farewell, brother, till the dawn 
of an eternal day shall unite us again ! 



37 

Sarah:— My sister — but no more — Sarah, a few short hours, and the- 
old Cemetry of Mount Hope, will contain the dust that was once your 
brother. You are among those few who know how grossly this tragedy 
and the things connected with it, have been misrepresented and npundea"- 
stood. What lying has been perpetrated in regard to it ; an cf, though you 
were not present on the "grass plat," yet you must hare heard the stones 
roll down the bank, as well as the brief, savage, and violent scuffle which 
resulted in the death of Charlie. Though he cancelled, with his blood, the 
tears he made you shed ; though I offered up for you my life, my liberty, 
and every thing a man possesses, and was the unwilling cause of Charlie's 
death, yet you and " Pirapy Snip,'' and' others, must answer for the blood 
shed on that fatal night. That you should damn me, and attempt to screen 
him, by wretched lying, and become the servile tool of the District Attorney, 
against me, shows a weakness, wickedness, and selfishness, which are at 
least very pitiable and very censurable. If these things are bitter, Sarah, 
they are also just. Da you remember your conduct in regard to me? Was 
it right ? I understand it all, but I pity you ; and, as much as I can, I par- 
don you. You have no " tall brother now, for men to tremble at his name." 
Perhaps, you do not want any. The District Attorney will probably do as 
he agreed, and " take care of you." Though my pen, voice and arm have 
ever been ready to assist and defend you ; yet, I sometimes raised them 
with a heart sickened and depressed. For one who has acted as you have, 
doth labor against reason, heart and hope. And, even if my life were con- 
tinued, I would still uphold and support you ; but now that I am about to 
die, I must be just. In so chilling a crisis as this, the truth should be told. 
I cannot praise, support, and respect another ; when, as a matter of rigid 
justice, they should be blamed, censured and condemned. I hope you will 
be restored to liberty, just as soon as you have become sufficiently sensible 
to make a proper use of it. The experience you have acquired, should be 
of some advantage to you : Try to do well the rest of your life. And now 
that I am dead, Sarah, accept my congratulations upon having got rid of a 
husband in a most unhappy manner; and also a brother, who gave you too , 
much good advice to be agreeable, and whose fatal error was, he loved, 
sympathized with, and defended, those who were unworthy of his regard. 

" Is not the damning line 

Of gnill and grief engraven on me now? 

And the dark falsehood which hath scathed thy brow, 

Hath it not blasted mine?" 
Beware, how y6u associate with my murderers, or you will all repent in 
dust and blood ! And now, Sarah, the manner in which I have been sacri- 
ficed, is sufficient to show that you have forfeited all right to call me brother. 
Receive my last words — burn them deep on your heart. I speak to you 
in that low, bitter, emphatic voice, which you have heard so often, and tell 
you to never call me brother again! Never insult my grave by your pres- 
ence or your tears/ Sarah, this is bitter, but just! Tears make dim these 
words, but time shall never efface them ! Farewell ! — Look to Heaven for 
that peace and support, which you cannot find upon earth. Farewell! 

Eli j — My brother, how are you ? I am sitting here, alone ; as cool and 
serene as the icy glories of Arctic grandeur. Farewell ! brother. a Death 
was lenient when he struck the father ;" he is so yet, though I object to the 
claim. We have lived well together, brother, " in sunshine and in shade ;" 



«*■ 



38 

though our last union was brief, and now I am done with time. Take things 
gloriously cool. It is needless to mourn much over things which cannot be 
prevented or recalled. You know the injustice of my death, brother, and 
where the responsibility falls. Be charitable. Woe unto them, brother, not 
me, if I sleep well. I wish you every possible success in your progress 
through the world. If you ever visit the fast City of Flour, (alias Old Roch- 
ester,) where your tall brother " sleeps passing well," pay such tribute as 
only men can pay. As you possess considerable sense and judgment, broth- 
er, I hope the principal part of this last article will correspond with your 
views and sentiments. This whole affair has been understood very badly, 
but men will become more sensible about it in the course of time, though it 
may never benefit me. I would be pleased to live longer, brother, though 
by no mens particular ; for twenty-three years of my style of life is all suffi- 
cient. Respect and defend my memory as a brother, whose character you 
understand better than the world. I smoked that " fragrant Havana " for 
you, brother, and as I poured over the beautiful rings and wreaths of smoke, 
circling round my head, I imagined myself a mysterious moon sleeping in a 
blue cloud. Fine, wasn't it! I never glance towards that old aqueduct, in 
relation to you, without thinking of that "divine" boat Captain, who might 
be supposed to address you thus: "Eli, you know that tall brother of yours ; 

well, the d d cuss is dead !" This is pretty tough, brother ; but I am in 

a tough fit to-night. 

When you get tired of this selfish world, brother, and the world gets tired 
of you, come and see me. You will find me on the river Lethe in Charon's 
boat, socially engaged in playing euchre with Charon, and talking philosophy 
and government with his Satanic Majesty. Having lost all my books and 
being most miserably " euchred" in this world, I shall be under the neces- 
sity of playing for a position in the other. If I lose the game, I shall pro- 
bably form a coalition with Byron and Bonaparte, and upset his institution. 
Byron has not forgotten his flirtations in Greece, nor Bonaparte his fulmi- 
nations in Europe. Of course I will make honorable mention of you, 

In whatever position you find me, Eli, I am your brother till the last 
tick of eternity. Mention my last farewell to Jennie, and also my last bitter 
regrets for her wretched story, which I am still willing to believe she told 
without the slightest intention of injuring me, though that false and foolish 
affair, with the liberal assistance of other rotton agencies, cost me my life. 
I cannot think of these things, brother, with any moderation ; so take my 
final farewell. » 



It only remains for me to die ! Yes, die alone. In the gloom and glory 
of midnight, to die ! Yet I smile at the skeleton arches at my feet. Per- 
haps this last writing is not what I would write if I were allowed sufficient 
time for correction and revision. Nevertheless, it contains a few things which 
I wish to concummunicate to the world, and they are expressed nearly as I 
wish to express them. Perhaps the deadly circumstances and partial sick- 
ness in which it was written, should pardon some of its errors ; but I apolo- 
gize for nothing. Whatever merit or imperfection it may "possess, I have 
assumed the responsibility, where it was right and just that I should. I 
have nailed others to the rack, where it was right and just that they should 
be held accountable. There are some things which I might have said, 
which I have not, simply because / will not. 



39 

I am informed by the knowing ones, " that the public are particularly 
set against me. 11 It is all right ! Go in ! It is hoped they will not set 
more than four weeks. I want none of their mercy. Give me justice first. 
I can only regret that my case was not transferred to the Court of Appeals; 
that I might have possessed an opportunity of writing a minute confession 
of this whole affair, with an elaborate explanation and defense. Although, 
in this extremity, some of my counsellors show an excessive anxiety to have 
the public comprehensively informed on the particulars; yet I have been 
trifled with on this point, till completely disgusted. At a time when expo- 
sitions weie material, the papers and knowledge were in my possession, and 
I offered to explain some things to the entire satisfaction of the community, 
and acknowledge the fair and just extent of my guilt. This was refused and 
vetoed. And now, when appeals are made to me, I can only say, " Call up 
the dead. Your question is for them." I have stated only matters of jus- 
tice, defence, judgment and necessity ; but what I have said, is true. 

Perhaps there will ever remain a tinge of the strange and terrible in my 
character. But those who can divest themselves of their personal prejudice, 
will truly say, that even in my life, even as well as in this last horrific epi- 
sode, I have been more unfortunate than criminal. My case will soon be 
carried to a higher tribunal, which, I am informed, is not led around by 
puerile prejudice or disgusting public opposition. I am done with earth. 
Slowly" I enumerate the names of a few strong friends in love and friendship, 
and send them a last and happy farewell. Slowly I see Ambition's dreams 
expiring, hopes blighted, life ruined," yet smile, on the shattered wrecks. — 
Slowly I revolve the grand and glorious authors of earth in whose spirits of 
deathless splendor I have revelled, and breathe a lingering farewell. Slowly 
I glance at the past, with its untold suffering and the mysterious future, 
whose mystery will soon be solved. Slowly I contemplate the infinite en- 
ergies of the soul that knows no light but its own enduring brilliancy ; no 
existence but eternity ; no God but itself. "I am prepared for all things, 
but deny the power that summons me." What I have said, I have said ; 
what I have written, I have written; what I have done, I have done — with 
a firm persuasion of my ability to cope with any thing — with a ,nerve 
that never trembles, and a soul that cannot fear. I place on this paper the 
ominous autograph— MARION IRA STOUT. 

October 6, 1858.. 

[The translator would here state, that the following paragraphs were 
written onthenighi of the attempted suicide, Oct. 13th.] 

Now to my task* The life which has burnt, blasted, and fed upon itself 
for twenty years, is now quenched in blood. The keen blade of the knife, 
sharpened with classical prescision, glitters on the table; the veins are swell- 
ing with deep and beautiful fulness ; how soon will the red life-current stain 
this dark room ! Yet my blood shall not sink into the ground ! There is a 
cool, passionless feeling in the soul, which seems not of earth. If we do 
not fear death, we do not die, 

'« Death's power is a tyrant's reign, 

O'er the voice and the lip which he bids be still ; 

But the fiery thought and the lofty will 

Are not fur him to chain." 
How wild and high the wind blows out-side, like the craven howl of the 
wolf for blood around the dying lion. This is solitude; it is death! But 
all things are tributary to the will. Death, our coalition is formed ! You 



4*0 

never received a spirit to whom the gifts of light and love have been more 
fatal and ruinous. Music, poetry, philosophy, beautiful intellectual woman, 
learning, high adventure, and the deathless mind, have been my gods. Give 
me these, no matter where, and I am happy. Yes, though the rest were 
annihilated, " the soul, secure in its existence," can never lose its identity ; 
and consequently ideal beauty is inherent and immortal. I have jmashed 
our world and built a temple of its ruins, and now, here goes to hold hio-h 
orgies in its labarinthed grandeur. Yet I linger with time — 

" For -who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
This pleasing, anxious being here resigned, 
Felt the warm pressing kiss of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one loug, lingering look behind 1" 

It is curious to observe the internal conflict between the inate love of life 
and friends in the cold, cast-steel logic and will that impels me to death. I 
would that I had time to philosophize on these strange, impassioned thoughts 
which Plato never dreamed, nor Cato uttered. In the last broad glance ovor 
this tragic affair, which rings away my life, I still think I have been more 
unfortunate than criminal ; and, with deeper bitterness perhaps than the au- 
thor of Jthe expression, let me say, u I can manage my enemies, but God 
sane Trie from my friendsV Rolled in the nobility of blood and beauty, I 
have lived unconquered! I die the same! Come forth, blood! Let's try 
what blood can do ; what can it not I 

" Here, spirits of the brave, who roam 
Enfranchised through yon starry dome, 
Rejoice ; a soul of kindred fire 
Is on the wing to join your choir !" 

e, — — — — — • 

• P. S. — Stout continued cheerful even up to the very hour of execution. 
He ate a hearty dinner about two hours before " the time appointed." On 
his way to the gallows there was no flinching, but he stepped with a firm 
tread, and stationed himself directly beneath the rope; and the death war- 
rant was then read. When asked what he had to say, he replied that his 
feelings and opinions were fully uttered, in his " Last Writing," He said he 
had nothing to add. x\t twenty minutes past three, the weight fell, and 
Marion Ira Stout was in eternity. The heart continued to beat some fifteen 
minutes after the drop. He died very hard, and it was thought, by some, 
that the neck was not broken at all, but that he died from strangulation. 

He has, indeed, suffered the penalty of the law. Who does not feel that 
the community is more secure ? It is better so, than th^, his name should 
bear the additional blot of suicide; and pitying him, shlll we not all say, 
" peace to his ashes ?" * 

STATE OF NEW YORK, 7 
Monroe County. $ 

Samuel P. Merrill, being duly sworn, deposes and 
says, that he resides in the city of Rochester ; that he is a practical phonogia- 
pher, and understands the character" of the writing used by Ira Stoat in which 
ne has embodied some particulars of the history of his life, and which is called 
by him his "Lastj Writing;" and that the foregoing is a true and correct inter- 
pretation of the same. 

SAMUEL r. MERRILL. 
Sworn, before me, this ) 
221 day of October, 1858. £ 

C. H. Clark, Mayor of Rochester. 



